


VLD Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles

by olddarkmachine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, One Shot Collection, Uniform Kink, but some prevalent tags include, further tags in drabble descriptions, important tags to be added with prompts, outsider pov, some nsfw so check tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:25:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 24,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olddarkmachine/pseuds/olddarkmachine
Summary: Voltron prompts and drabbles from tumblrCurrent prompt: New Year's Prompts #10: Hoverbike RacingFor the first time in a long time, Keith felt free.He felt it in the way the heated desert air twisted through his hair, whipping it around his face.He felt it in the velvet thrum of the hoverbike beneath him as it carries him across the dry, cracked earth.He felt it, in the joyous sound of the that’s beside him.There’s no more war, no more crushing weight of a universe trying to take from them, no more fight for time. They had all of it, stretched out ahead of them like the desert he and Shiro both love so much.Smile pulling wide, Keith chances a look over toward him. With his head tossed back, Shiro is the picture of reckless abandon. A man freed of his shackles, he looks younger, and his smile makes Keith’s chest ache with how it crinkles the edges of his eyes.





	1. …To Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my dear, sweet anon who asked: For the kiss prompts can I request Sheith and a kiss to wake up? (I forgot the number xD)
>
>> Mornings are Keith’s favorite time, if only because he gets the chance to see Shiro completely at ease. The golden glow of the early morning sun would always color Shiro’s tanned skin, making him golden as well as he breathed rhythmically into his pillow.
>> 
>> A picture of relaxation, sometimes, he’d even wear a slight hint of a smile that would turn his full lips up just enough to leave him looking every bit the mid twenty-something that he is.
>> 
>> This morning, is one of those mornings, and Keith can’t help but reach out to ghost the pad of his finger along the bow of that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Fluff and morning sunshine.

Mornings are Keith’s favorite time, if only because he gets the chance to see Shiro completely at ease. The golden glow of the early morning sun would always color Shiro’s tanned skin, making him golden as well as he breathed rhythmically into his pillow.

A picture of relaxation, sometimes, he’d even wear a slight hint of a smile that would turn his full lips up just enough to leave him looking every bit the mid twenty-something that he is.

This morning, is one of those mornings, and Keith can’t help but reach out to ghost the pad of his finger along the bow of that smile.

This is easy, and it’s everything that Shiro deserves.

No more fighting. No more war. No more sacrifices. They had both given and given, and now, it is their turn to take.

Humming lowly to himself, Keith lets his fingers continue to wander, tracing invisible lines across the strong flat of Shiro’s jaw, and along his strong pulse. It has been just about a year since they finally found victory at the end of the war, but he still loves the thrum of Shiro’s heart against his palm as veritable proof that he is still alive.

Continuing the nonsensical track down, Keith felt his own smile grow as he heard the subtle change in Shiro’s breathing as his palm lay flat against his heart.

_Badump, badump, badump._

“Hm,” Shiro hummed deep in his throat, pressing up into the touch as he shifted beneath their sheets, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes as he lowers his lips down to the ball of his shoulder, brushing them along the metal that had replaced his flesh so long ago. He knows it doesn’t feel the same way that skin does, but he knows it feels enough. The touch earns him another hum as he feels Shiro’s heartbeat pick up just slightly beneath his hand as he drags his lips up to the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

It’s warm there as he feels Shiro nuzzle his nose sleepily against the top of his hair as he lingers at the spot, putting more pressure there before pulling away.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice is a rasp around his name, still full of sleep as he follows it with a sigh.

Mornings are his favorite, and this is why.

Because it’s just them, and the feel of Shiro’s skin, and the sun that already sits high in the desert sky.

“Keith.” His name is almost a whine now as he drags his teeth against the square of his jaw, teasing the skin gently before pressing a soothing kiss to it.

“Yes?” Keith asks slowly, letting the word dance along his lips’ path as they draw up towards his cheek and rest at the edge of his scar. Shiro’s heart beats quicker against his palm.

_Badump, badump, badump._

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks, voice stronger as he turns his head just enough to brush their noses together. His eyes stay closed and Keith can’t help but chuckle lowly.

“I’m waking you up,” he breathes as he places a gentle kiss to the tip of Shiro’s nose. “Isn’t that obvious?”

A rumble vibrates through his chest and against Keith’s hand as his eyes crack open, revealing the slightest sliver of silver. It always has been his favorite color.

“I’m up,” Shiro hums, letting his gaze flick down to Keith’s lips as he presses his own, sleep warmed palm to the back of his hand, capturing it against his chest. “What do I get?”

Teasing turns his voice warm as he eyes him, waiting for an answer that Keith knows he already knows. Stretching his fingers apart, he smiles as he feels Shiro’s occupy the spaces between them as he clutches his hand.

“Me,” he says, dipping his voice low before he presses the word to Shiro’s mouth. Opening up to it lazily, he clutches Keith’s hand as he drags the other along the line of his back, following up to hair at his neck. Twisting the waves between his fingers, Shiro pulls just enough to earn a whine that catches in Keith’s throat.

He feels the smile that makes Shiro’s mouth go wide as he slowly pushes against him, rolling them over until he was balanced above him.

“Good morning, baby,” he says lowly as Keith reaches up and around his neck, anchoring him to him as he bent back down for another.

The sun warms Keith’s skin as he presses further up into the kiss and sighs.

Mornings really are his favorite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	2. …Because Time’s Run Out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sequencefairy](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com/) asked: For the kiss meme, could you do sheith and 39?
>
>> They’re out of time.
>> 
>> The realization catches like a bullet in bone as Keith watches the sun before them pulse erratically, its light growing and dimming intermittently, just off of the same rhythm of the seconds counting down to the end.
>> 
>> He can hear the sharp voices of the other paladins shouting, looking for instruction on what they can possibly do now, but it all just melts together in that single point of clarity.
>> 
>> They’re out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Sad ending, Major Character Death, Angst
> 
> @sequencefairy, you just remember you did this to yourself

They’re out of time.

The realization catches like a bullet in bone as Keith watches the sun before them pulse erratically, its light growing and dimming intermittently, just off of the same rhythm of the seconds counting down to the end.

He can hear the sharp voices of the other paladins shouting, looking for instruction on what they can possibly do now, but it all just melts together in that single point of clarity.

They’re out of time.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice is sharp behind him, breaking the sound of his name beneath things that have been left unsaid for wholly too long as he turns to look up at the former Black Paladin. The usual shining silver of his eyes is muted, made dusty by a look of fear Keith had never imagined he’d ever see him wear.

They’re out of time.

“We can save them,” Keith whispers, the edges of his vision blurring as he holds onto Shiro’s gaze. It’s a last resort. A Plan Z that he had come up with in secret as they’d raced toward the failing sun that threatened to destroy the planet that it belonged to. In another life, he wouldn’t have thought it necessary, but his time with the Blades had taught him to always be prepared.

Sometimes sacrifices would need to be made.

But looking up at Shiro and the awful twist of his mouth as he caught onto the meaning of Keith’s words, he wished they didn’t.

“We will save them,” Shiro nods in affirmation as he places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing roughly until he can feel the pressure of it through his armor.

 _We_ , he says, signing his own life over.

 _We_ , he says, as if it doesn’t twist the knife deeper into Keith’s chest.

Opening the team’s communication line, Keith swallows around the lump that’s burying itself deep within his throat and cutting off his air.

“Team,” he starts, ignoring the painful rasp of it. If the other paladins hear the way the word cracks, they don’t mention it as they quiet, waiting for their new leader’s orders. “I have a plan.”

If Keith has calculated correctly, Black’s power source should pack the same punch as an atomic bomb, which would double down on the sun’s explosive core, turning it into a blackhole that would fall in on itself.

An entire planet, and their team, saved at the expense of just two lives.

“Do you remember those plates protecting the planet from radioactive blasts?” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own as he turns his attention back to Shiro who is painting his profile in silver. It’s almost as if he’s trying to memorize each and every line, each curve and mark, and every little thing that makes up everything that he is.

Keith recognizes the look of it, because it’s mirrored in his own gemstone stare as he reaches out to him.

“Yeah, what about it?” Lance’s voice is sharp as Keith’s hand closes around the neck of Shiro’s armor.

“If we can place those like a wall between the sun and the planet, it should take enough off the explosion to protect them.”

He wonders if they can hear the thrum of the lie that makes his words tremor as Shiro’s own hand drags from his shoulder and up to his neck, his palm cupping his racing pulse and thumb grazing across his cheek.

“One lion per plate,” Shiro’s voice is stronger as he strokes over the fully healed scar on his cheek. “We’ll take the furthest.”

It’s all the team needs to shout their affirmations, each streaking across the sky to the useless hunks of metal that will ultimately save their lives. Black remains steady facing towards the sun as Keith tightens his grip on Shiro’s armor, pulling him closer.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, the words brushing across Shiro’s lips in a hush as a tear catches the pad of his thumb, creating a line of moisture that marks the path it follows.

“Yes,” Shiro answers, equally tender as he moves his other hand to fold over Keith’s on Black’s controls. It’s warm as it squeezes, slowly pushing it forward toward the blazing sun.

How many times had they’d saved each other? Time and time again, they’d followed each other to hell and back, fighting demons and aliens and death itself. Yet now, there was nothing left to do.

They’re out of time.

“Shiro,” Keith starts, only to be silenced by the frantic press of Shiro’s lips to his as he swallows all else that he was going to say. It’s a crushing thing that bruises, splitting his lip at a crack and tainting the kiss with the metallic taste of blood. Their breath shudders together as they press into each other, neither tearing apart as Black flew straight toward the dying sun and their deaths.

“No!” He isn’t sure whose voice it is that he hears as the team realizes their lie, all he knows is the hard press of Shiro’s lips against his and the wet slide of their tears as they collect against their cheeks.

_They’re out of time._

But god, does he wish they weren’t.

“I love you,” Keith whispers against his mouth, not pulling away to say the words as the light in Black’s cockpit washed out everything, burning his vision and leaving him blind. Shiro’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer in a way that hurt.

“Keith,” he breathes. “I lo—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	3. …On a Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [the-laurel-tree](http://the-laurel-tree.tumblr.com/) asked: For the prompt thing: #20 with sheith please
> 
> +
> 
> #41: …because the world is saved, from a second ask :)
>
>> It feels good, Shiro thinks, as he looks out over his crew celebrating. Yet something feels like it’s missing.
>> 
>> No, it feels like someone is missing.
>> 
>> “Shiro,” Keith’s voice comes through strong and a shade off urgent through their personal comms. He turns his name into something closer to a command that cuts through the sound of the bridge.
>> 
>> It’s been years, and the simple sound of his name on Keith’s lips still steals his breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the kiss I'm gonna want at the end of the show, but that I'm not gonna get, so I wrote it my own damn self

They did it.

The shock of it runs deep behind Shiro’s sternum and places itself obstinately beside his stuttering heart as he watches the the dust clear and sees Voltron standing proudly before the fallen robeast.

_They did it._

It was over.

Cheers erupt through the bridge at a deafening pitch that leaves him reeling more than the battle had. They’re high, and joyous, mingling with the wetness of triumphant tears. Off to the side, Shiro sees Coran throw excited arms around a beaming Iverson, and Veronica share a high five with Sam.

It feels good, Shiro thinks, as he looks out over his crew celebrating. Yet something feels like it’s missing.

No, it feels like some _one_  is missing.

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice comes through strong and a shade off urgent through their personal comms. He turns his name into something closer to a command that cuts through the sound of the bridge.

It’s been years, and the simple sound of his name on Keith’s lips still steals his breath away.

“Keith,” Shiro manages as he trains his eyes ahead, searching the screens until he sees the quick movement of white and red cutting across the desert sand. Dark hair twisted with the ferocity of his speed as Keith pushed across the earth with his focus set on the Atlas.

It’s singleminded and unwavering, a testament to what Shiro loves about him most.

“I’m coming,” Shiro says before snatching the out his earpiece, slamming it down onto the console before turning on his heel. If any of the crew members notice their captain tearing from the ship, they don’t say anything as his footsteps echo through the halls before transforming into the hard slap of his soles against hard, cracked dirt.

They meet in the middle in a hug that crushes what air he has left out of his lungs as his hands find Keith’s hair, tangling within its waves as he holds onto him as if he might get away.

At one point and time, Shiro had thought he would.

But that was so long ago. In a different time, and in a different place.

This is here, and now, and they’ve done it.

Moisture collects at the juncture of his throat and shoulder where Keith is burying soft sobs and nonsensical words as his fingers clutch at the back of Shiro’s uniform.

“Shh,” he hushes, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper as he loses himself to the feel of Keith’s burning breath on his pulse. They line up in an erratic rhythm, only evening out after several moments wrapped within each others arms and the soft glow of victory.

“We did it,” Keith’s voice tickles before he pulls back, capturing Shiro’s gaze with his own tear stained stare. “We saved the world, Takashi.”

The enormity of the statement truly hits then as he drags a breath of the dry desert air down into his lungs, reveling in the burn if only because he was alive to do so. Through crashes that had stolen his life as he had known it; through adventures that had taken them lightyears from home; and through fights that had left them both scarred, they had done it.

Loosening his grip on his hair, Shiro slid his palms along the sharp diamond cut of Keith’s jaw and ran a gentle thumb across the healed burn on his cheek. It pulls something soft from Keith’s lips as he pushes into the touch, his eyelids fluttering at the contact. With care, Shiro leans down slowly before brushing a kiss across the raised skin, lingering long enough to elicit another sweet sigh.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls away, looking down at Keith. This close, he can count the stars that are trapped in his eyes. “We did.”

The victory burns itself into his skin as a full crescent smile breaks across Keith’s face before he slides a hand to Shiro’s chest, fisting it into his uniform. With a sharp tug, he presses that smile against his.

They did it, Shiro thinks as he opens for Keith.

_They were finally free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	4. …Out of Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: For the kiss prompt, could you please write Sheith, on a falling tear? Or in anger. Thanks for the prompts! I love your writing.
>
>> Shiro is angry. It’s an irrational kind of anger that he doesn’t have control over, and knows he shouldn’t feel.
>> 
>> But that’s the truth of it.
>> 
>> He is angry.
>> 
>> The kind of angry that is truly born from the fear of seeing your universe plummet from the sky in a blaze of fading glory. Black’s descent from the atmosphere had come harder, and faster than the others, landing her and Keith into the hard dirt of the desert just outside of the Garrison. That landing had pulled a fear from so deep within him, Shiro realized he hadn’t even known the true meaning of the emotion until then.
>> 
>> Of all the times Keith had lost him, it only occurred to him in that moment that he could lose Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For you, dear anon, how about a little bit of both! 
> 
> **Tags:** Post S7, so wee bit of a spoiler alert. Consider this the hospital scene I wanted to write but didn't know how until I got this prompt!

Shiro is angry. It’s an irrational kind of anger that he doesn’t have control over, and knows he shouldn’t feel.

But that’s the truth of it.

He is angry.

The kind of angry that is truly born from the fear of seeing your universe plummet from the sky in a blaze of fading glory. Black’s descent from the atmosphere had come harder, and faster than the others, landing her and Keith into the hard dirt of the desert just outside of the Garrison. That landing had pulled a fear from so deep within him, Shiro realized he hadn’t even known the true meaning of the emotion until then.

Of all the times Keith had lost him, it only occurred to him in that moment that he could lose Keith.

Shiro’s fingers thrum soundlessly on the drab, itchy fabric of the hospital blanket that covers Keith’s unmoving form as his chest rises and falls beneath it with steady breaths that he can’t stop counting.

The doctors say that it’s just a mild concussion and bruising, something that he should be thankful for.

Shiro says they’re full of shit.

If it was just a mild concussion and bruising, Keith wouldn’t still be sleeping two days later.

 _You know better than anyone that Black takes a lot to pilot_ , Allura had said just hours before, and her words continue to linger over him even after she’s gone.

They’re true, but that isn’t the point.

Shiro’s angry.

But really, he’s angry at himself. All this time, and as many times as he and Keith had saved each other, yet he’s never said it.

The three words that circle his dreams like water around a drain, round and round, pulling him into his deepest dreams and bringing him back into the light time and time again.

Yet he hasn’t uttered it. Keith knows. He has to know.

But that just isn’t the case, is it? Because if Shiro knew that for certain, he wouldn’t feel the angry talons of anger as they tear into the meat of his chest and still his breath with each fade of the heartbeat on the monitor beside Keith’s bed.

With a growl, Shiro pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping the pressure will help him focus on anything else besides everything he almost lost the chance to say. Stars sparked at the back of his eyelids, swimming in tears as he tries to force himself to breathe.

In the silence, he hears the soft shift of skin against fabric, and the pained sound of a throat clearing, but he still doesn’t look up. This isn’t the first time Keith has made like he’s awakening.

Or the second.

Or the third.

Hope makes his heart flip still as the soft sounds continue, stopping altogether when he feels warm fingers around his wrist.

“Shiro.” His name is barely there, just a rasp of breath as Keith feebly pulls at his hand. A gasp tears through the room, loud as a chainsaw as he pulls his face from his hands.

It isn’t until much later that he realizes that it was his own.

“Shiro,” Keith says again, tongue fighting for those two syllables, but eyes bright with clarity. In his gaze, Shiro knows if he gets close enough, he’ll be able to see every galaxy he has yet to explore.

But he wants to.

God, does he want to.

Anger rears its ugly head again as Keith’s stare softens and his fingers remain around his wrist, pressing firmly into his pulse. He doesn’t deserve that look.

Not yet.

“Shiro,” Keith starts, voice growing stronger around its disuse before he’s cut off by the crash of Shiro’s mouth against his. Impulse pushes him closer and tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair as he feels him shudder beneath him. The grip on his wrist tightens before falling away, only to be replaced by arms around Shiro’s neck as Keith pulls him closer still.

 _He could have lost this_ , he thinks as his mouth parts around a stuttering sob, tears slicking his cheeks.

It’s sloppy and wet, a kiss undeserving of any kind of confession, but it doesn’t even feel like his body is his as he tries to pour everything into the space where their bodies meet.

“Shiro,” Keith gasps when he finally pulls away, eyes the color of a dying day as he drags a hand away from his neck to brush away the tracks of Shiro’s tears. Comfort radiates from Keith in a way that he knows he should emulate, after all, he wasn’t the one that nearly died saving the universe.

“I almost lost you,” Shiro says, words quaking wetly as fresh tears fall, dragging wet lines down Keith’s fingers and over the back of his hand.

“Shh,” Keith hushes, leaning forward slowly to press a kiss to his cheek, catching a newly fallen tear with his lips. “I’m right here.”

It holds the same weight of a promise as Keith pulls away only to press another soft kiss to his other cheek before he pulls him in, holding him close as Shiro’s tears fall against his throat.

Through everything, Keith’s still the one saving him.

Moments pass as they stay this way, clutching onto each other and just breathing in until his crying quiets and all he feels is the steady thrum of Keith’s heart against his.

“I love you,” Shiro finally says, running the words along Keith’s pulse. A hum vibrates against his cheek as Keith nods against his hair, his own answer tempered just as smoothly.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	5. …As a Lie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [patienceyieldslove](http://patienceyieldslove.tumblr.com/) asked: For the Kiss meme: 28 with Kuron/Keith!!!
>
>> “I love you.”
>> 
>> Keith’s words hit harder than any blow he could possibly land as they wrap themselves around his throat and tighten. He knows who they’re meant for.
>> 
>> He knows they aren’t meant for him.
>> 
>> But wasn’t that just the beauty of it? Up until just hours before, he hadn’t even known that he himself wasn’t Shiro. Up until just hours before, Kuron had been the Black Paladin.
>> 
>> The head of Voltron.
>> 
>> The reason Keith’s voice softened and his eyes shined. With pride. With familiarity.
>> 
>> With love.
>> 
>> Was it a lie if, up until just hours ago, he hadn’t known that his own feelings were false?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Kureith. Angst. The two really go hand-in-hand.
> 
> Fact: I'm in a constant state of sad over Kuron.

“I love you.”

Keith’s words hit harder than any blow he could possibly land as they wrap themselves around his throat and tighten. He knows who they’re meant for.

He knows they aren’t meant for  _him_.

But wasn’t that just the beauty of it? Up until just hours before, he hadn’t even known that he himself wasn’t Shiro. Up until just hours before, Kuron had been the Black Paladin.

The head of Voltron.

The reason Keith’s voice softened and his eyes shined. With pride. With familiarity.

With love.

Was it a lie if, up until just hours ago, he hadn’t known that his own feelings were false?

That everything he felt, from the burning fires that had razed his insides with Keith’s touch to the serene flutter of his pulse when his mind lingered on that four lettered word, hadn’t been his own to feel?

Shiro loves Keith.

Shiro deserves Keith.

But why can’t he?

Kuron’s grasp on Keith’s shoulder clenches harder as he pushes his forearm further down onto his throat, earning a strangled sound that pushes itself between them painfully. It lodges itself between his ribs as he lets his eyes drop down to Keith’s lips, which are moving around words he can’t hear over the roar of his own heart.

It’s a lie, but it wasn’t his lie to start.

A startled sound hits the back of his throat as he captures Keith’s gasp between his teeth, licking a heated line along his bottom lip in question. He feels the way Keith tenses beneath him, struggling up against the arm pressing down into his neck for just a moment before his mouth is opening beneath his.

It’s pliant and welcoming, heated by fires started by the lightning that he knows runs beneath Keith’s skin. He’s always known he carried the strength of a southern storm, but he’d never truly known it until now as he basked in the oppressive push of the tempest. Kuron can feel the battering force of rain and hear the solemn howl of wind as it shakes him to his very core.

Losing himself to it, he breathes Keith in, collecting all the pieces of him that aren’t even his to know. He hoards the sound of his moan; the ache of his nails biting into his nape; the heated rush of his breath against his cheek.

It’s a lie, Kuron knows, because of who he is. Because of who he  _isn’t_.

It’s a lie.

But it isn’t.

A sharp gasp tears itself violently from his throat, filling his mouth with the copper taste of blood as he finds himself pushed back. Pain and fear culminate at the midpoint of his elbow and shoulder as he falls to his knees, metallic arm landing beside him with an ugly sound.

“Keith,” Kuron breathes as he stares up at him through his bangs to see the look of sorrow that has melted Keith’s stare into midnight pools.

It isn’t a lie.

But it is.

 _I love you_.

Darkness twists the edges of his vision as he feels the floor beneath him shake and tremble as the facility starts to crumble around them. It’s heavy and it pushes down on his shoulders and makes it hard to breathe.

The last thing Kuron sees before everything goes black, is the tear that rolls down Keith’s cheek.

_I love you._

_He isn’t mine to love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	6. …Casually.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ambigious-ambition asked: I want to preface this by saying I love your writing!! Since I credit your football au for getting me into Sheith, can I request a kiss between them? #14 please and thank you!
>
>> It’s been so long since they’ve started going over battle plans that everything on the screen is starting to run together in lines of unending text that hurts Keith’s eyes. He knows it’s for the greater good.
>> 
>> Save the world, and all that. It comes with being a defender of the universe.
>> 
>> But he is tired, and he’s been in enough fights with the enemy to know that the plans almost always went out the window anyway. Of course, Keith also knows that the Garrison is holding onto what it can of protocol so he can’t really complain all too much.
>> 
>> That, and he can’t complain about the broad presence that has been at his back the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me crying over this ask since it made my day TT.TT 
> 
> **Tags:** Fluff, Post S7 ~~so minor spoiler alert~~ , Power Couple Battle Planning Smooches, Sexy Times Implied

It’s been so long since they’ve started going over battle plans that everything on the screen is starting to run together in lines of unending text that hurts Keith’s eyes. He knows it’s for the greater good.

Save the world, and all that. It comes with being a defender of the universe.

But he is tired, and he’s been in enough fights with the enemy to know that the plans almost always went out the window anyway. Of course, Keith also knows that the Garrison is holding onto what it can of protocol so he can’t really complain all too much.

That, and he can’t complain about the broad presence that has been at his back the entire time.

“What are you thinking?” Shiro’s words are hot on the back of his neck as he leans in close, his hands folding at the edge of the table on either side of him in a stance that envelopes him. It sends a shiver down Keith’s spine, even if he knows its the furthest that he will go. While their relationship isn’t much of a secret amongst the other officers and paladins, they had already agreed to keep things at least PG amongst company.

This even feels as if it’s toeing the line as Keith pushes back against Shiro’s chest and hums.

“About how I’d like to be literally anywhere else,” he says lowly as he drags a finger lazily across the computer screen ahead at him, pulling up another file with even more words that stopped making sense hours ago.

“You mean you don’t like being here?” Shiro’s voice vibrates through Keith’s back, filled with weighted implication as he leans forward to tap at the same screen. The meaning is clear.

Here, didn’t refer to the planning room.

A low chuckle swings from his lips as he shakes his head, tickling Shiro’s cheek with it as the older man pulls back from the offending strands but not too far.

“I mean, here, isn’t so bad,” Keith says as he closes the screen Shiro had opened just to make him lean in again. “But you know what I mean, Captain.”

Filling the newly minted title with as much heat as he can, Keith revels in the way it makes Shiro tense at his back. At first, he’d tried to pretend he didn’t like to hear him say it that much, but that had only lasted as long as it had taken for Keith to make him come as he breathed it in his ear.

Which, for the record, was just about no time at all.

“Keith.” Shiro says it like a warning as he pulls his hands away from the table and steps to the side, pulling his warmth away with him as he crossed his arms over his chest. He fixes him with a look that would be stern if it wasn’t made pliant by something heated.

“Shirogane!” Iverson’s voice cuts over the thrum of voices in the room, making them both jump as the commander motions Shiro over to where the other high ranked officers are. He feels the pass of disappoint as it turns his expression dark just long enough for Shiro to catch it before he tempers it.

“Go,” Keith says, shooing at him with a hand before turning his eyes back to that damned screen. The words fade into the bright light of the computer as he tries to focus on anything other than the stare on his face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he follows up with a shrug when he hears Iverson call for Shiro again, impatience making his voice gruff. Keith can feel that pause and the hold of Shiro’s breath as he pauses a moment longer.

Then, with one easy motion, Shiro’s lips are brushing along his cheek, tickling the edge of his scar with a soft sigh. A sting of electricity jolts through him, stiffening his spine as his eyes widen. It’s closer to a caress than a kiss, and if it weren’t for the brush of breath, Keith thinks he would have mistaken it as that much.

It’s soft, and sweet, and as casual as a summer day.

Humming lowly, he leans into it, feeling his lids dip with the pressure before it disappears almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“I’ll be right back,” Shiro says under his breath with an easy smile that kickstarts his heart. And then, he’s gone, walking toward Iverson whose eyes have grown twice their size as he waits.

Raising a hand to chase the feeling Shiro left lingering on his cheek, Keith can’t help but smile before turning back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kiss Prompts Here](https://theolddarkmachine.tumblr.com/post/177024130372/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-i-will-write-a)


	7. …Out of Pride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [nasigorengmaincourse](nasigorengmaincourse.tumblr.com) asked: Sheith, 42 ;)))) have fun girl
>
>> There was a point in time that Keith worried that maybe growing older would have been boring. Would have worried that after twenty-five, there would be nothing left for him. If he didn’t have his life sorted out by then, then he wouldn’t have it sorted out at all and he’d be nothing but old and achey and most likely alone.
>> 
>> But he hadn’t taken into consideration the intergalactic war that would have stolen his most formative years, and he definitely hadn’t taken into consideration Shiro.
>> 
>> Back then, Shiro was an impossible dream that he couldn’t let himself hope to get if only because that would have added to the pain of old and achey and most likely alone.
>> 
>> What Keith also hadn’t taken into consideration, was that maybe he’d like being boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone really ask for older!Sheith? No. But the idea of them being older together makes me freaking happy, so I hope y'all enjoy it too. 
> 
> Pro tip: Read this while listening to [The Rest of Our Life by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqdaskhEa0I) because that's what I did while I wrote it and I've never felt so warm and fuzzy.
> 
>  **Tags:** Painfully sweet fluff. Older!Sheith. Neglectful Smoothie Making.

Keith sat at the breakfast bar, head propped on an open palm while he traced the ridge of his steaming coffee cup with a finger. It is far to early to be awake, but it’s also never too early to watch Shiro as he makes his morning smoothie, cutting each fruit with care before tossing it into the well loved blender.

There was a point in time that Keith worried that maybe growing older would have been boring. Would have worried that after twenty-five, there would be nothing left for him. If he didn’t have his life sorted out by then, then he wouldn’t have it sorted out at all and he’d be nothing but old and achey and most likely alone.

But he hadn’t taken into consideration the intergalactic war that would have stolen his most formative years, and he definitely hadn’t taken into consideration Shiro.

Back then, Shiro was an impossible dream that he couldn’t let himself hope to get if only because that would have added to the pain of old and achey and most likely alone.

What Keith also hadn’t taken into consideration, was that maybe he’d like being boring.

Smiling to himself, he watches as Shiro stabs a finger into the on button, sending the loud grind of ice, fruit and yogurt crashing around their kitchen.

There was also a point, he knows, that Shiro also hadn’t considered the possibility of making it this far. With a disease that wouldn’t let him find out what it was like to blow out damn near 40 candles, he’d always had a dark humor about being old.

About being boring.

Keith can’t swallow the swell of pride that threatens to choke him then as he watches Shiro turns away from the blender to discard the cutting board and knife, the early morning sun catching the silver of his eyes like a brightly polished coin.

They’d both made it though.

Kicking and screaming, and through death itself, they had made it.

Now they got to point out the streaks of grey marring their hair and exposing their age, wearing each lightened strand like a badge of honor.

 _Look_ , Keith had breathed excitedly, just days before as he’d pulled up a section of hair to expose white threads running through onyx at his temple.  _Now we match_.

It had made Shiro laugh in a way that still made his heart race, even as just a memory, as he’d tapped the edge of his scar on his cheek.

 _We were already matching_.

“I wouldn’t think you’d still be this interested in smoothie making,” Shiro says, voice making him jump as he lands back in the kitchen to see his husband’s face filling his vision with a quirked eyebrow and humor filled smile.

This close, Keith can see the peppered stubble lining his jaw, trying to catch up to the sheer white of his hair.

 _They’d both made it_ , he thinks happily, pressing forward without warning to push a quick, chaste peck to Shiro’s lips. Pride chars his insides as he lingers longer than intended, enjoying the way Shiro sucks in a startled breath before he cards his fingers into the back of his hair to root him to the spot.

Keith is just so god damn proud. Of himself. Of Shiro. Of their friends.

_They’d made it._

And he could never truly put into words just how proud he is, but he thinks maybe, with all the time they have together to be old and boring, he can show him.


	8. …Lazily.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: sheith, 16 please~
>
>> With his body languid and used in the best way, he can’t help but think that this is it.
>> 
>> The big love that every song and book and movie spoke of.
>> 
>> It wraps itself around Shiro’s being, clinging to his bones and lining them with the heat of new stars and the gravity of new planets.
>> 
>> The big one, Shiro thinks as he lets his thumb trace a path along Keith’s skin, brushing over the grit of cooling sweat.
>> 
>> With a capitol L.
>> 
>> With the implications of lasts instead of firsts.
>> 
>> With shining rings and red strings that bind them together, always leading them back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Blink and you'll miss it implication of prior sexy times.
> 
> This is sort of a foil to [#32...To Wake Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715383/chapters/36529713)

Bright moonlight lances through the blinds over the window, casting thinly cut slices of light across the sheets and onto Keith’s skin. He’s warm where he’s tucked into Shiro’s side, and he’s pressing slow, lazy kisses to whatever skin he can reach with the least amount of movement.

The barely there brushes, light as a butterfly’s wing, pull a smile across Shiro’s lips as he folds his arm tighter around his shoulders.

With his body languid and used in the best way, he can’t help but think that this is it.

The big love that every song and book and movie spoke of.

It wraps itself around Shiro’s being, clinging to his bones and lining them with the heat of new stars and the gravity of new planets.

 _The big one_ , Shiro thinks as he lets his thumb trace a path along Keith’s skin, brushing over the grit of cooling sweat.

With a capitol L.

With the implications of lasts instead of firsts.

With shining rings and red strings that bind them together, always leading them back home.

Once upon a time, he might have been scared of what that all meant, and what all he would need to give up to hold onto it. Of course, it wasn’t until he’d found it that he’d realized true love meant he wouldn’t need to lose anything at all.

“You’re thinking loudly,” Keith mutters lowly, pushing the words over the ball of his shoulder as he lets his lips run the course of a particularly thick scar. His words are caught between a statement and a question as he puts pressure into a peck to his pulse.

“Am I?” Shiro says around a low chuckle as he urges Keith closer, pulling him up onto his chest so he’s looking down at him. The icy glow of the moonlight catches in his onyx waves as they fall around his face, still slightly dampened from their previous activity. That same light makes Keith’s skin glow in a way that makes him seem delicate.

Shiro knows better than anyone that he isn’t, having had a front row seat to just about every precarious situation that he’d conquered over the years. Keith is the strongest person that he’s ever known. But here and now he looks breakable, soft skin turned to softer starlight.

Reaching up, Shiro cups his cheek and pulls a small purr from him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Keith breathes into his palm as he turns to press a kiss to his life line, igniting it with a blaze that races through his wrist and up his arm, following a path of blood and vein to his heart.

“I love you.” And that’s just it isn’t it? He loves him. It’s as easy and simple as those three small words.

He loves Keith.

In a way that creates whole new solar systems that burn his insides as he feels Keith bury his smile in the flush of his hand.

“Is that all?” He hums, pulling away with bright eyes as thumbs at Shiro’s chin, admiring the faint ghost of a smile that tugs at his lips before leaning in close.

“That’s all,” Shiro smiles as their chests meet. Letting the moment hang between them, he revels in the way their breaths mirror each other in the easiest way.

Because that’s how it had always been for them.

As easy as breathing.

“I love you,” Keith replies before pressing a lazy, warm kiss to his lips. It’s slow as they move against each other without rush, blanketed in warmth and moonlight.


	9. …Out of Love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: heck why not sheith, 50?
>
>> Quiet Keith loves to talk.
>> 
>> Mostly, he loves to talk to Shiro.
>> 
>> About this, and that. Everything, and nothing.
>> 
>> But especially about the missions that he goes on with Krolia and Kosmo. His eyes always brighten and his smile always stretches wide when he starts to tell him about what he learned, or what scrape Kosmo phased them out of, glowing with equal parts appreciation and pride.
>> 
>> It makes his own heart swell as he props his chin atop the cool metal of his hand, losing himself to the hum of Keith’s words as his own hands continue to animate the words.
>> 
>> If he could, Shiro would stay like this forever, just listening to Keith talk and watching him glow. Settling into his palm, Shiro bites down on the quirk that’s turning the rightmost corner of his mouth up in a soft smile as he watches the soft desert breeze push Keith’s onyx waves around his face.
>> 
>> God. He loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Just some good, pure, unadulterated fluff. 
> 
> Honestly, how could I end Smooch-A-Thon any other way?

Shiro’s eyes soften as he watches Keith’s hands move excitedly with his words, each blending into another with every flourish he makes. It’s a secret that only he gets to know, and he revels in the fact.

Quiet Keith loves to talk.

Mostly, he loves to talk to Shiro.

About this, and that. Everything, and nothing.

But especially about the missions that he goes on with Krolia and Kosmo. His eyes always brighten and his smile always stretches wide when he starts to tell him about what he learned, or what scrape Kosmo phased them out of, glowing with equal parts appreciation and pride.

It makes his own heart swell as he props his chin atop the cool metal of his hand, losing himself to the hum of Keith’s words as his own hands continue to animate the words.

If he could, Shiro would stay like this forever, just listening to Keith talk and watching him glow. Settling into his palm, Shiro bites down on the quirk that’s turning the rightmost corner of his mouth up in a soft smile as he watches the soft desert breeze push Keith’s onyx waves around his face.

God. He loves him.

Even if Shiro told him every hour of every day, it still wouldn’t do the depth of his emotion justice.

It burns with the unending flame of starlight and he knows that it has burned since before they had come to be, and it will continue to burn until after they have gone.

It’s buried deep down within Shiro’s bones, so wholly a part of him that he can’t even pinpoint the moment he fell for Keith because he suspects that a part of him always has.

He loves him.

And he doesn’t tell him enough.

The realization pushes him forward and across the short distance of tabletop that separates them as he stills the words of Keith’s tongue. A soft, startled gasp parts his lips as his eyes grow wide just momentarily before he melts into the touch and presses closer.

Opening into it, Keith hums lowly, dragging hot lines over Shiro’s shoulders and over the back of his neck as he scratches his nails into the shaved hair at his nape in an effort to anchor himself.

This is another secret that only Shiro knows.

Keith is greedy. He wants everything, and he takes it, and Shiro is all too happy to give it as he runs the tip of his tongue hungrily along Keith’s bottom lip. It pulls the sweetest sound from deep in his chest as he pushes into him, turning the kiss into something meant for a darkened room, and not a sunny afternoon on the patio.

Fire runs through Shiro’s veins as he twists his fingers into Keith’s hair, angling his head back just enough to deepen the kiss before pulling away.

Shiro can’t help but admire the way the amethyst of his eyes is mired by pupils blown wide, the crushed petal blush of his kiss bitten lips, and the flush of his cheeks turned pink by want and the sun above.

God, does Shiro love him.

Running a careful thumb across the high arch of Keith’s cheek, Shiro can’t help but smile.

“What was that for?” Keith asks, voice breathless and eyes bright as he leans into the warm touch of his palm. Leaning forward, Shiro presses a softer, sweeter kiss to his forehead before pulling away completely.

“I love you,” he says with a shrug. “Do I need anymore reason than that?”


	10. New Uniform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: I'd really love something around their new uniform. First reaction from either Shiro or Keith possibly? (bonus to get them naked LOL)
>
>> Brushing his fingers over the shining gold bars that sit proud on Shiro’s shoulder, Keith can’t help but think how good they look offset by the black fabric of his new uniform. Snug across his shoulders and chest, the new jacket fits him in a way that cuts him of nothing but clean, trim lines.
>> 
>> As if Shiro’s tapered frame needed much more help catching his eye.
>> 
>> A small, rolling hum tickles the tips of Keith’s fingers as the newly minted captain shuffled through the spreadsheets clutched in his hands.
>> 
>> “So, does this mean you like the new uniforms?” Shiro asks lowly, his smile evident in the brightness of his voice as he pushes himself further into the back of their couch, and consequently, into Keith’s touch.
>> 
>> Drawing out his own, teasing hum, he drags his fingers across the thick fabric, brushing lightly at the seam where Shiro’s collar ends and the nape of his neck begins. A smile, sharp and knowing, cuts itself across his mouth as he feels the shudder that rocks its way up his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Uniform kink, nsfw-ish, and teeny tiny bit of S8 spoiler if you don't want to know anything about their new uniforms lol
> 
> Welcome to my VLD Fandom Appreciation Prompts, brought to you by my freaking excitement for S8!

Brushing his fingers over the shining gold bars that sit proud on Shiro’s shoulder, Keith can’t help but think how good they look offset by the black fabric of his new uniform. Snug across his shoulders and chest, the new jacket fits him in a way that cuts him of nothing but clean, trim lines.

As if Shiro’s tapered frame needed much more help catching his eye.

A small, rolling hum tickles the tips of Keith’s fingers as the newly minted captain shuffled through the spreadsheets clutched in his hands.

“So, does this mean you like the new uniforms?” Shiro asks lowly, his smile evident in the brightness of his voice as he pushes himself further into the back of their couch, and consequently, into Keith’s touch.

Drawing out his own, teasing hum, he drags his fingers across the thick fabric, brushing lightly at the seam where Shiro’s collar ends and the nape of his neck begins. A smile, sharp and knowing, cuts itself across his mouth as he feels the shudder that rocks its way up his spine with his touch.

“Yeah,” Keith replies, not bothering to swallow the devilish lilt that has painted his tone something dark as he steps around the side of the couch, all the while drawing his touch across Shiro’s shoulders.

Eyes turned to scorched metal meet his as he finally stands before Shiro, the older man not even bothering to pretend that the sheets before him are holding his attention. They burn, bright and wanting, as they glide over Keith and his own new, fitted uniform. He knows it doesn’t quite do him the same justice that it does Shiro, but even he can admit that the triangular cut of the jacket and tight fit of the black pants highlights some of his best assets.

From the way Shiro is looking up at him with a look of awe inspired need, Keith thinks maybe he agrees.

The very thought only cuts his smile deeper as he grabs the paper that stands between them and pulls them away, not missing the way that Shiro doesn’t put up much of a fight to keep them.

“I think I do like them,” he continues, dropping the spreadsheets onto their coffee table with the soft hush of paper on wood. Slowly, and sinuously, each move filled with languid, burning intent, Keith pushes himself into Shiro’s lap and steadies himself with a knee on either side of his thighs.

“What about you, sir?” His voice is breathy as he leans in close, placing his palms on Shiro’s shoulders as he continues to finger the bars there. Pulling both hands down over his chest, he traces one over the officer insignia that marks the space just above his heart while the other draws a burning line down toward his belt.

“Keith,” Shiro says by way of answer, turning his name into something that sounds caught between a prayer and a curse as he follows the sharp, metal lines of the Voltron symbol embossed in the buckle.

“Do you find it to your satisfaction?” Keith asks, looking up through his lashes as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. With a sharp  _click!_ , the buckle gives way as both ends fall to the side, leaving the space across Shiro’s taut stomach open for him to splay his hand across.

Want buries itself bone deep within him as he feels the way it jumps at the touch.

There’s more that he could say playing on his tongue, the words waiting their turn to push all the buttons that Keith knows Shiro likes, but they never come as he pushes forward and steals them away. Lips burning and bruising against his, Shiro’s hands find either side of his hips and hold him steady as he rolls up into him. It startles a moan from him that parts his lips and allows the captain to push further as he licks the back of his teeth.

Curling the fist at Shiro’s heart, Keith anchors himself as he nips at his lip.

A smile, soft as sin, brushes against his own before Shiro pulls back.

“Is that a yes?” Keith asks, voice husky and burnt with the flames raging deep within his core. Fanning them into an inescapable blaze, Shiro reaches up and buries his fingers into his hair as he drags his thumb, cool and metallic, over the flush of his cheek.

“Yes,” he rumbles as he draws Keith back down, pausing just before their lips can meet again. “But I think they’d look much better on our floor.”

A soft, warm laugh dances between them before Keith presses it into Shiro’s skin with a quick kiss.

“I have to say I agree,” he says, already making quick work of the buttons of Shiro’s jacket.

****


	11. Post-Battle Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sequencefairy](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com) asked: Sheith, can I get a little hurt/comfort in this house? Some post-battle recovery? Could it get a little steamy, please?
>
>> “Feel any better?” He asks lowly, kneading the last of the minty salve into Keith’s skin until he hears him let out a small, breathy hiss.
>> 
>> “If by better, you mean no longer feels like it’s being pounded by a Galran mace over, and over, sure,” Keith shrugs, the movement rolling the muscles beneath his hands. “It feels a bit better.”
>> 
>> Shaking his head, Shiro cages his laughter behind his teeth, leaning down to presses a soft, fluttering kiss to the top of his spine instead.
>> 
>> “That dark humor looks good on you, baby,” he mouths against the bone, absentmindedly working his hands down over his sides. Pushing back into the touch, water waves around them, slapping lightly against the tub’s porcelain with soft wet sounds.
>> 
>> “Thanks, I learned from the best,” Keith replies, the end of his words caught up in a gasp as Shiro’s palms brush along his stomach, one holding him close as the other slipped further still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** NSFW though not necessarily explicit, naughty nonetheless; bathtub handjobs; hurt/comfort
> 
> Jess: Hey, can this be steamy  
> Me, thinking I've reached the pinnacle of comedy: Hehehe, let's put them in a bath

Murky yellows, purples and blacks mar Keith’s skin like spilt ink, the biggest of his bruises stretching across the back of his right shoulder and down towards his ribs. It’s warm beneath Shiro’s touch, pulling his skin taut in a way that the hot steam of their bath water can’t even seem to ease as he works the Altean salve into it.

While it’s far cry from the worst wounds Keith has ever received, Shiro knows they’re aching in a deep and cutting way, if only because he’s sporting his own equally dark bruise stretching across his chest.

“Feel any better?” He asks lowly, kneading the last of the minty salve into Keith’s skin until he hears him let out a small, breathy hiss.

“If by better, you mean no longer feels like it’s being pounded by a Galran mace over, and over, sure,” Keith shrugs, the movement rolling the muscles beneath his hands. “It feels a bit better.”

Shaking his head, Shiro cages his laughter behind his teeth, leaning down to presses a soft, fluttering kiss to the top of his spine instead.

“That dark humor looks good on you, baby,” he mouths against the bone, absentmindedly working his hands down over his sides. Pushing back into the touch, water waves around them, slapping lightly against the tub’s porcelain with soft wet sounds.

“Thanks, I learned from the best,” Keith replies, the end of his words caught up in a gasp as Shiro’s palms brush along his stomach, one holding him close as the other slipped further still. A pleased sound rumbles deep in his chest as Keith drops his head back onto his shoulder.

Turning his head just enough, Shiro presses a kiss to his temple, enjoying the feel of his steam dampened waves against his nose.

“Soon you won’t even need me and my macabre jokes,” he hums as he finally takes Keith in his hand. The contact, even in its gentleness, sends a jolt through them both as Keith moans again, his hands clutching at the edges of the tub as his body pushes up against the hand splayed across his stomach.

“Never,” he hisses at the thought, turning his half lidded gaze to Shiro to capture his lips with his own. It’s a vague impression of a kiss, lazy and half formed, filled with nothing but their shared breathing as Shiro palms at him. Dragging his hand up and down at a languid pace, he only pauses to thumb at his slit before repeating the motion.

The quiet, tinkling sound of water against porcelain punctuates the soft sounds of Keith’s escalating breathing as his hips continue to roll against his hold in search of more friction. Keeping his hand pressed against his stomach, Shiro keeps his motions controlled and slow with steadfast focus if only because he knows it’s what drives Keith crazy.

“Shiro,” he begs, his mouth still against his own as he turns his name into a heated breath that brands his skin.

“Shh, baby,” Shiro hushes, twisting his wrist in a way that makes Keith arch obscenely into his fist. “Let me take care of you.”

Whining lowly, Keith drops his head back against Shiro’s shoulder in acquiescence, his lids falling shut as Shiro continues to work him in his hand. Beads of water and sweat catch in his collar bone, shining with the dim light of the bathroom as if they’re something akin to crystals collecting on his skin.

Slowly, he swipes his hand up from Keith’s stomach to brush them against his fingertips.

“Look at you,” Shiro whispers, running his thumb over Keith’s collar. Clutching harder at the edges of the tub as he picked up his pace, Keith lets out another breathy sounds that fills his veins with lava. It’s a sound that only he gets to know, and he collects it, filing it away next to the feeling of Keith’s lips, and the exact shade of his night sky eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he continues, looking down over his wet skin to where he’s filling his fist.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes again, his name hitching and breaking on the back of his desire as he turns his mouth in towards Shiro’s throat. Mouthing at the vein there, his gasps grow sharper until they sound like sobs, each turning his name into a questioning plea.

“Shh,” Shiro hushes again, hand twisting in the way he knows will push him over the edge. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He feels the brush of Keith’s nose as he nods at the reassurance.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, giving his wrist a final tug before he feels Keith arch against his chest, tucking his cry neatly into the square of his jaw as he comes in his fist.

A quiet overtakes them as his orgasm works through him, the come down settling like their bathwater around them until they’re sitting in a silence marred only by the sound of Keith’s breath against his skin.

“Feel better now?” Shiro asks, turning his face just enough to sweep a kiss across the top of his hair. There’s a moment’s hesitation before Keith nods, pulling back to look up at him with bright, dangerous eyes.

“Yeah,” he says before he’s shifting, placing himself before Shiro as he faces him. With trembling care, Keith presses a hand just above the ever darkening mark over his heart as he peers at him through his damp bangs.

“Now,” his lips arc into a crescent smile, “let me take care of you.”

****


	12. Indirect Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [dogshatecauliflower](dogshatecauliflower.tumblr.com) asked: Sheith, stealing a sip of his coffee and it’s no big deal (indirect kiss)
>
>> If there was anything Lance learned during his time in space fighting an intergalactic war in a giant robot lion— beside the fact that he had an affinity for guns and that aliens are extremely freaked out by the concept of milking— it’s that hating early mornings was a universal pastime. It’s a fact that is only being reaffirmed now as he looks around to the rest of his team, each member in some form of half asleep distress where they’ve managed to scatter themselves in the main lounge of the ATLAS.
>> 
>> Sure, Team Voltron could fight the hell out of some alien threats, but an early morning briefing could bring every single one of them to their knees.
>> 
>> Intergalactic jet lag, as it turns out, is a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Outsider POV
> 
> I experimented a bit on this and while it won't seem like I filled this prompt at all, I SWEAR it gets there lol

If there was anything Lance learned during his time in space fighting an intergalactic war in a giant robot lion— beside the fact that he had an affinity for guns and that aliens are extremely freaked out by the concept of milking— it’s that hating early mornings was a universal pastime. It’s a fact that is only being reaffirmed now as he looks around to the rest of his team, each member in some form of half asleep distress where they’ve managed to scatter themselves in the main lounge of the ATLAS.

Sure, Team Voltron could fight the hell out of some alien threats, but an early morning briefing could bring every single one of them to their knees.

Intergalactic jet lag, as it turns out, is a bitch.

Jaw cracking wide with a yawn, Lance drags his gaze over the room, first catching Pidge as she laid herself across one of the plush couches. Pulling the pillow from beneath her head with a sharp tug, she placed it over her face in a move that could either be her trying to block out the already dimmed lights of the lounge, or to suffocate herself.

 _Same_ , he thinks to himself as his stare roams toward Hunk where he’s positioned on the opposite end of the couch. Arms spread wide across the back, he’s dropped his head back between them, not showing any sign of life when Pidge stretches out to push her feet into his lap.

As if inspired, his own body stretches out, pulling his long legs out towards the coffee table before him as he sinks further down into the recliner he nabbed. Several snapping pops rock through his joints as the move pulls the early morning tension from his body in a way that leaves him boneless.

It feels nice, and his eyelids start to feel too heavy to keep open when a soft sound snaps him back to the lounge, and the seat opposite him.

Even Allura hasn’t escaped the dreaded early morning lull as she curls into herself, setting her forearm against the armrest as a makeshift pillow. Her white curls fall down around her face like a curtain as she dips down onto it with a small sigh that makes his chest ache.

 _She’s so beautiful_ , he thinks, the thought fleeting before he moves his gaze toward the breakfast bar, if only to keep the feeling from growing with all the same grace of spilt ink.

Its two inhabitants keep their backs toward the rest of the team with Keith’s slumped forward where he has his forehead pressed into the metallic countertop. The meeting had treated him the least kind as the officers of the Garrison had demanded battle plans for Team Voltron, and then any information at all when they’d realized that there weren’t any.

He’d held it together as well as anyone would have, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t made a sound caught somewhere between a growl and a scream when he’d pushed into the tall seat at the bar and dropped his head onto its surface with a loud  _thunk!_

A large hand broke into the frame of his focus, patting gently at Keith’s back in quiet reassurance.

Of course, the only one of them that still vaguely resembles a functioning human being, is Shiro. With his still steaming coffee cup, Shiro continues to smooth his hand between Keith’s shoulder blades as he tips his head back to take a sip before he drops it onto the bar. His voice is a distant hum as he says something to Keith, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter at whatever he replied.

Lance knows they’re close. 

They all do at this point. How could they not? A few years on a castle ship together can open ones eyes to that kind of thing.

And even if it didn’t, Keith throwing himself after Shiro’s mind controlled clone and then finding his consciousness inside the astral plane sure did.

So yeah, they’re close.

But no one knows just how close, and neither of them seems to want to share.

Yet, knowing as much, Lance feels it shouldn’t come as much of a shock when Keith’s head turns to face Shiro, his gaze going impossibly soft as his mouth forms around words that he can’t hear.

Lance doesn’t miss the way Shiro’s fingers twitch before he pulls his hand away, shifting in his seat as he places his other elbow on the countertop and perching his chin on his palm as he returns the look. Watching them feels almost invasive as Lance cuts his gaze towards his other teammates, all who have fallen into their own blissful sleeps.

Which, is honestly something he should be doing, yet he finds himself turning his attention back to the duo just in time to see Keith reach slowly for Shiro’s mug. Sitting up just enough, he takes a sip, eyes fluttering at the taste before he puts it back down, his head following soon after as he pillowed it on his arm.

From where he sits, Lance can see the slight tilt of Shiro’s lips as he grabs the coffee, his large hand wrapping around the ceramic before he followed suit.

Mouth falling open at the ease of it all, Lance watches as Shiro pushes the cup back towards Keith in offering.

 _What, the quiznak?_  He thinks sharply, snapping his gaze back and forth between the duo and the rest of their team, half praying that someone would wake up to see what he’s seeing.

They never do as their fearless leaders continue to push the coffee back and forth, sharing the drink and soft looks as Hunk’s escalating snores start to overtake the lounge.

 _What the quiznak_ , Lance thinks again after the fourth pass, mentally documenting it all so that he can make sure he can tell the rest of the team, because he’s definitely sure that right now, they were basically making out.

***


	13. Pet Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [spiffylion](spiffylion.tumblr.com) asked: since im horny on main every day can i ask for some good ol sheith daddy kink and pet play ~
>
>> Shiro had known he’d be in trouble when he’d returned from a briefing to see the collar laid out on top of their bed, but he hadn’t quite been ready for the fires that had turned the gem like color of Keith’s eyes into something wicked, or the smoke that had made his voice crack and husk as he’d commanded him to strip.
>> 
>> Just that small order had made his skin prickle and his stomach twist with desire as he’d strained against his uniform pants before making quick work of them. Then Keith had ordered him to kneel, fastening the collar around his neck just the right side of tight before he’d uttered two, sharp words.
>> 
>> “Now wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** NSFW, pet play-- obviously-- authority kink
> 
> Happy Friday to everyone, but especially spiffylion. ~~please forgive me for using authority kink instead~~

Shiro’s knees ache as the carpet beneath them bites angrily into his skin, but he can’t move.

He isn’t allowed to.

That’s the rule whenever he’s wearing the leather collar, adorned by nothing more than a single silver bell that tickles his throat as he tries to focus his breathing. 

All he’s allowed to do right now, is watch.

Master’s orders.

Only once they have been lifted, will he be allowed to get up and do something about the pain in his knees, and the burning want that is tearing him apart from the inside out. Tightening his fists on top of his naked thighs, Shiro bites into the meat of his bottom lip as he keeps his gaze focused forward and on Keith.

Keith in all his lithe, alien beauty, his body moving all long and fluid before him where he’s kneeling on their bed and working himself open.

Shiro had known he’d be in trouble when he’d returned from a briefing to see the collar laid out on top of their bed, but he hadn’t quite been ready for the fires that had turned the gem like color of Keith’s eyes into something wicked, or the smoke that had made his voice crack and husk as he’d commanded him to strip.

Just that small order had made his skin prickle and his stomach twist with desire as he’d strained against his uniform pants before making quick work of them. Then Keith had ordered him to kneel, fastening the collar around his neck just the right side of tight before he’d uttered two, sharp words.

“Now wait.”

So he did.

And he did.

And he continued to do so as Keith had slowly stripped himself of his own clothing, making a performance of each piece before he’d settled himself on their bed with a bottle of lube and a look filled with intent.

But now, after what had felt like hours, Shiro didn’t want to wait anymore. His fingers ached to touch, and his mouth watered to taste, his need only increasing with each hitch of Keith’s breath as he pushed his fingers further into himself.

The dim light of their room caught in the slick wet of lube as a single drop rolled down from his hole, drawing a long line down the back of his thigh. It was obscene in a way that made Shiro’s stomach jump, and his own desire grow painful as he cut his nails into his palm to keep him grounded.

Shiro’s vision goes hazy with his want as he imagines the way Keith’s moans would sound once he finally got his hands on him. Imagines the row of bruises he’s going to suck into his skin like a pretty necklace cut from the same color of Keith’s eyes. Imagines how hot and sweet he’s going to feel around him when he finally gets to push in.

Their moans mingle in the air as Shiro feels his hips roll involuntarily as Keith arches his back, dropping his head back so his hair tickles below his shoulder blades.

God, does Shiro wants to wrap his fingers within those black waves and force his head further.

What he would do to pull him close and hold him there until he’s ruined. Until every inch of Keith is covered in marks that would cry,  _mine._

And then, impossibly, he’s there. With his dark eyes, filled with obsidian want, Keith is there.

Shoving his slick fingers beneath the collar, he tugs him sharply forward into a biting kiss that fills Shiro’s mouth with the coppery taste of blood. Returning the kiss in kind, he keeps his hands on his thighs as he tries to swallow down the need to reach out for him, if only because Keith still hasn’t released him from his command.

When Keith does pull away, his gaze is dangerous, sharpened to a fine, needling point as he stares down at him.

“Have you been paying attention?” He asks, voice rolling across Shiro’s skin like thunder. It drags a shudder up his spine as he nods, lost to sound of his voice, and the galaxies in his eyes.

For a moment, he wonders if Keith even realizes that the only universe he ever truly cared about saving, was the one trapped within them.

There’s a silence, punctuated only by the tinkle of the collar’s bell as Keith gives it another sharp tug.

“Have you been paying attention?” He asks again, searching for a vocal answer as he curls his fingers further around the leather, the tightness of it quickly making him lightheaded.

“Yes,” Shiro manages, filling the single word with pleading as he looks up at him.

“Yes, what?” Keith asks, tone softening as he leans in closer, stopping with his lips poised just against his.

“Yes, sir,” Shiro whispers, brushing the response over Keith’s lips, not daring to close the distance between them in fear it would push him back.

“Good kitty,” he soothes, sealing the words between them with a chaste kiss that lingers for just a moment too long before he pulls away. With his fingers still tucked in the collar, Keith starts to move back towards the bed, bringing Shiro along with him.

“Now, show me just how good you can be.”

***


	14. Sparring and Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Maybe some one sided James pining over Keith as he practices some sparring with Shiro?
>
>> Everyone watches when the captain of the ATLAS and the head of Voltron spar. When titans fights, mortals gather to catch the display of raw power. That’s how it’s always been, and how it will always be, which is why James doesn’t feel bad now as he stands amongst the crowd ringing the mats to the side of the gym.
>> 
>> Like the others, he’s always been amazed by the way Keith’s animalistic movements stacked up against Shiro’s hard trained ones. Moving against each other, they’re perfectly matched forces of entirely different designs.
>> 
>> A steadfast mountain against a raging storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** One sided Jeith, Pining and Angst ~~because that's the fun of jeith~~ , Sparring
> 
> I had accidentally misread this prompt as James pining over Keith as he [James] spars with Shiro. Which, admittedly, doesn't even make sense. But because I got the idea in my head I decided, hey, why can't I have both? So uh, here's both.
> 
> Consider this a slight prequel to [You Can Look...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837636) ~~slight, because i didnt double check if anything was contradictory lol~~

Everyone watches when the captain of the ATLAS and the head of Voltron spar. When titans fights, mortals gather to catch the display of raw power. That’s how it’s always been, and how it will always be, which is why James doesn’t feel bad now as he stands amongst the crowd ringing the mats to the side of the gym.

Like the others, he’s always been amazed by the way Keith’s animalistic movements stacked up against Shiro’s hard trained ones. Moving against each other, they’re perfectly matched forces of entirely different designs.

A steadfast mountain against a raging storm.

Watching them now, James can feel the stabbing burr of his own want as Keith pushes himself forward in a leap that would have caught anyone else off guard. Against Shiro though, it’s only met with a soft smile and quick side step that left him moving neatly passed him.

A roll of thunder cracks his sternum as he hears Keith’s smoky laugh. James knows it’s meant for Shiro, and Shiro alone, but he files it away anyway as he watches the captain make his own quick move towards him.

Shuffling back with a quickness that isn’t wholly human, Keith settles into a southpaw stance, his back to where James stands, but he can only imagine the fierce way he’s looking at Shiro now as they still in a silent standoff.

He’s watched enough of these little sessions to know that his gaze would be filled with fire, and hunger, and challenge in a way that could incinerate. Would, even, if Shiro didn’t level it with his own cutting stare.

James’ pulse pounds in his ears as he drags a breath through his teeth, the air of it heated by the still gathering bodies as he traces the hard lines of Keith’s muscle through the black tank top clinging to his form thanks to a fine mix of tightness and sweat. Even from where he stands, he can see the way his shoulders heave with his breathing, each movement catching the light of the gym’s fluorescents in the sweat on his skin.

A small voice at the back of his mind wonders what it would taste like to press a kiss there.

That same small voice, can go to Hell, he thinks back.

The truth of it is, he isn’t really here to watch the duo spar. It’s a thin veil of a lie, a pleasant happenstance to cover up the burning flame of a crush that has haunted him since his youth. He’d thought that it would have died with Keith’s disappearance from the Garrison, from his life, and eventually, from Earth itself.

But then he’d returned in a blaze of glory that fanned the fires he’d thought were long gone until they’d consumed him.

Consumed him, and then driven him to joining the masses in watching Keith and the only man he’d ever had eyes for sparring if only for the excuse of being allowed to flat out stare without question.

It would be sad if it was anyone else.

 _It is sad_ , that small voice quipped bitterly.

“James.” A voice shakes him of his thoughts, pushing him back into his body in time to catch the small smile Shiro is offering him as he stands before him. Mild panic rocks through him as he looks side-to-side in a vain attempt to ascertain all that he’d missed. From the way the others had stepped back around him, he could guess that he’d missed something important.

“Want to spar?”

Something very, very important.

“What?” Confusion makes his voice all too quiet, so he clears his throat and tries again, repeating the single word as he looked back to the captain.

Over the shoulder, he sees Keith’s gaze flash toward him before he dips his head back behind a water bottle.

“Spar with me,” Shiro said, dropping the pretext of the question and turning it into a command as he turns back to the mats without waiting for his answer. Beside him, he hears Rizavi hiss a quiet “you gotta,” before shoving her elbow unceremoniously into his ribs.

Shooting her a sharp glare, he steps out onto the mats, rolling his shoulders and thanking whatever god there might be that he’d at least done some stretching before neglecting his own training to watch the match.

“Why me?” James asks, watching Shiro closely as he turned around, noting a purple mark that has bloomed like a flower on his collar bone. A sinking feeling dips his stomach when he realizes it isn’t fresh.

“You’re always here,” Shiro shrugs as he settles down into a low stance, watching him with the same focus of a lion on its prey. “Figured the leader of the MFEs might be looking for a challenge.”

The light above catches in his stare, turning it bright and daunting as he motioned for James to prepare.

It feels like a challenge all its own in a way that makes him swallow thickly as he falls into his stance.

When it’s too late, he realizes it must look like a pale imitation of Keith’s southpaw.

“Rules?” James asks, tightening his fists and focusing on the pull of his skin over his knuckles instead of the smile that flicks the edges of Shiro’s mouth upward.

“No rules,” he replies, the two words ominous before he stepped forward.

The match, if it can even be called as much, is over almost before it can begin as James’ world tilts on its axis, suspending him there just long enough to realize Shiro’s arm is already leading him down onto a mat. Air squeezes from his lungs when he finally hits, the weight of the floating appendage pushing down on his sternum triumphantly.

“Ouch,” he hears someone say, their voice echoing his own thoughts as the push of Shiro’s arm disappears, replaced instead by the vision of his human hand reaching out to help him out.

“You have an advantage,” James croaks as he takes it, letting the captain pull his weight up without much help in his own, small revenge. Not, that it seemed to effect Shiro any as he laughed.

“I told you, no rules,” he says before clapping him on the back. “Maybe next time.”

Next time, James thinks, he’ll make sure to watch from one of the observation decks.

“Yeah,” he says faintly, rubbing at the pressure on his sternum. “Next time.”

With another heavy clap at his back, Shiro gives him a nod before turning away and walking towards a discarded towel and water bottle beside the mat. James tries desperately not to think about how it’s the same as Keith’s.

Still working his fingers into the bone of his chest, he drops his gaze toward the ground.

“Hey,” Keith’s voice is a welcome oasis cooling the sting of his defeat as he looks up quickly. Too quickly, as his vision spins for just a moment around the paladin before him with a towel outstretched to him

“Good job,” he says, simple and matter-of-fact, as if he’s speaking to a cadet after his first sparring match. Honestly, that’s what he even feels like as he grabs the soft towel from his grip. A zing shoots up his forearm, the electric burn of it searing a line all the way to his heart as their fingers brush for one suspended moment before Keith pulls away.

It leaves heat burning in his cheeks as he nods, not trusting his voice to a simple thanks before he turned to walk away.

Wiping the towel across his face, James silently prays for a lightning strike to take him out as he makes his way towards the gym doors.

With his back to the room, and his mind wrapped around the way Keith’s voice had sounded, James doesn’t notice the lingering stare at his back as he pushes open the doors.

He also doesn’t notice that it’s Shiro’s.

****


	15. Kosmo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [smartcookie727](smartcookie727.tumblr.com) asked: How about a Sheith fic where Kosmo keeps warping Keith to Shiro (or vice versa) whenever Keith's upset.
>
>> Kosmo loves his alien.
>> 
>> He is strong, he is kind, and sometimes, he even likes to sneak Kosmo treats when no one is watching. Sure, he likes to do this thing where he throws a stick and expects him to bring it back, and yeah, he’s a little funny looking, with fur just on the top of his head, but he can look passed that.
>> 
>> Because he’s _his_ alien. When he’d fallen from the sky as a blazing star, Kosmo had been scared, already missing his family. Lost and confused, he hadn’t expected to find a pair of kind eyes looking over him when he’d awakened from his descent, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be taken in.
>> 
>> Now, he’s his family, and Kosmo would do anything for him, just as he’s sure his alien would do anything for him.
>> 
>> And, right now, Kosmo knows he needs to do something because his alien seems to be upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Kosmo POV and fluff.
> 
> This was originally gonna be a 3+1, AKA the three times Kosmo warped Keith to Shiro, and the one time he warped Shiro to Keith. But then the first scenario hit 800+ words and I realized that that just wouldn't be feasible in <1k words soooooo, here's my one time Kosmo warped Keith to Shiro lol

Kosmo loves his alien.

He is strong, he is kind, and sometimes, he even likes to sneak Kosmo treats when no one is watching. Sure, he likes to do this thing where he throws a stick and expects him to bring it back, and yeah, he’s a little funny looking, with fur just on the top of his head, but he can look passed that.

Because he’s  _his_  alien. When he’d fallen from the sky as a blazing star, Kosmo had been scared, already missing his family. Lost and confused, he hadn’t expected to find a pair of kind eyes looking over him when he’d awakened from his descent, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be taken in.

Now, he’s his family, and Kosmo would do anything for him, just as he’s sure his alien would do anything for him.

And, right now, Kosmo knows he needs to do something because his alien seems to be upset.

Whining lowly, Kosmo tiptoes close to find the cause of the discontent rolling off Keith in dark waves. Hissing sounds drop from his lips in a rush as he bent over, clutching at one of his strange paws as he hopped away from the short table in the middle of the room. Cocking his head, he inspects the small table for any clues of his alien’s anger.

As far as he can tell, it doesn’t look as if anything had happened to it.

“God dammit,” Keith’s voice is almost a growl as he falls down onto the soft, long seat behind the table. The curse is filled with a sound a lot like hurt, which makes him eye the short furniture with suspicion.

He doesn’t like when his alien is hurt. 

Or when he’s sad. 

Or when he’s anything less than content, for that matter, and he knows he needs to fix it somehow.

Somehow, he thinks, as if he doesn’t already know what to do.

Padding toward where Keith now sits, his pushes his head into his lap, looking up at him as he mentally searches the building for the one thing that always seems to make him happy. A soft touch grazes his head as Keith scratches at his fur, still making low hissing noises as he stares up at the ceiling.

Yes, he is hurt, but it’s okay because Kosmo knows just how to fix it. Tail thumping against the carpet, his ears perk as he finds the strong presence, shimmering on the other side of the building. It’s warm and fierce, like a comforting fire, and he can already feel the content rumble rolling through his chest as he reaches out for it.

An all too familiar prickle starts to poke at his limbs, raising his fur as he rubs his face further into Keith’s lap. For a moment, he feels his alien tense as his scratches stopped.

“Kosmo, no, don’t,” Keith starts, tone filled with warning as his head snapped down to look at him but by then, it was too late. Bright light falls around them, and the air squeezes uncomfortably for the matter of a breath, and then they’re exactly where they need to be.

With Kosmo’s other alien.

“Hey, Kosmo,” Shiro’s voice is bright, albeit slightly breathless as he shifts the duo from where they’ve landed heavily in his lap. His tail continues to wag, brushing over Shiro’s chest and tickling his nose as Kosmo turns to look at the way his other alien smiles while Keith just groans.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” he says, running his furless paw down his face before he stands, settling his other on Kosmo’s back, and urging him to follow suit. The exasperated sound he makes doesn’t quite match with the sweet tang of happiness that curls itself around him.

“Don’t be,” Shiro says as he helps Kosmo down, giving his ears a good scratch before grabbing at Keith and pulling him back down into his now empty lap. The sharp feeling around his alien grows, mingling with Shiro’s as he gives him a look over.

“I like when you guys drop in.”

A warm feeling startles from Keith as his face turns a bright shade to match before Shiro presses forward and pushes his own against it. There’s a frozen moment as Kosmo waits, watching his aliens before Keith pushes away with a small sound and a smile that shows his teeth.

“Stop using us as a distraction and get back to work,” he says as he stands, walking towards the door with a quick nod of his head for him to follow.

Kosmo assesses the upturn of Keith’s mood, happy to find it a stark contrast to what it had been moments before, which means he did his job. Wagging his tail happily as he follows behind him, his steps nothing short of a trot as he passes through the door of the room.

As it closes, he doesn’t miss the whispered “good boy,” behind him.

***


	16. Team Voltron vs. Grilled Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [dogshatecauliflower](dogshatecauliflower.tumblr.com) asked: Team Voltron, the science of grilled cheese sandwiches.
>
>> They’re all going to die.
>> 
>> That’s what Hunk thinks as the harsh smell of burnt bread wafts into the air once more, a cloud of smoke making the large kitchen hazy.
>> 
>> They’re all going to die, because apparently, while Team Voltron could travel across space and time itself and fight giant beasts and angry alien armies, none of them could cook.
>> 
>> When he’d made the discovery over what was meant to be his birthday dinner— half formed globs of somehow still burnt goop— he’d ordered the entire team to meet him in the Garrison kitchens for a crash course in the easiest thing that he could think to make.
>> 
>> Grilled cheese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Gen fic, Humor-- I suppose-- and Major Sandwich Death. ~~the gang's all here wrecking grilled cheese sandwiches one sandwich at a time~~
> 
> I'm not gonna lie you guys, I have been laughing about this prompt since I wrote it last weekend XDDDD RIP the numerous grilled cheeses and pans that were sacrificed for the sake of this drabble.

They’re all going to die.

That’s what Hunk thinks as the harsh smell of burnt bread wafts into the air once more, a cloud of smoke making the large kitchen hazy.

They’re all going to die, because apparently, while Team Voltron could travel across space and time itself and fight giant beasts and angry alien armies, none of them could cook.

When he’d made the discovery over what was meant to be his birthday dinner— half formed globs of somehow still burnt goop— he’d ordered the entire team to meet him in the Garrison kitchens for a crash course in the easiest thing that he could think to make.

Grilled cheese.

While not necessarily the most nutritious, at least he could sleep soundly knowing that none of his teammates would die of starvation if he wasn’t around to prep a meal. Or, at least, that’s what he had thought when this had all started.

But now, an undetermined amount of sandwich corpses later, he isn’t so sure he’ll ever be able to trust any of them in a kitchen. 

Silently, he wondered if he could get Iverson to ban them from any kind of cooking supplies.

“I think it’s mad at me,” Coran said, pointing down at his skillet and the subsequent cause of the smoky air. The burnt remnants of what used to be a perfectly good piece of white bread stared up at them sadly as a bright laugh came from his left.

“Another one? That’s rough,” Lance says, peeking over towards the redhead and his smoking pan.

“You don’t have much room to talk, buddy,” Hunk fires back, tilting his head towards Lance’s own burning sandwich as he makes quick work of the bread in Coran’s skillet before it can adhere itself to the metal. Yipping loudly, Lance returns to his post to flip the overly done bread. Offering a small smile to Coran, he hands him back the spatula before moving to the next stovetop.

“I don’t understand, Hunk, where does the cheese come from?” Allura asks, squinting at a brightly colored and highly processed square that’s pinched between her fingers. Shaking it slightly, she watches as it wobbles limply in the air.

“Not sure you want to know, princess,” Lance supplies, earning him a sharp look from Hunk.

“From the store,” he deadpans, praying Lance won’t actually tell her the joys of the cheesemaking process. If the milk thing hadn’t gone over well, he can only imagine what Allura would think about cheese. Working down the line, he eyes Keith and Shiro with hesitance.

The most surprising thing that he’d learned through this whole situation, was that out of all of them, their fearless leaders seemed to be the most tragic when it’d come to cooking.

Shiro could transform an entire ship into a robot with his mind, and Keith could fight just about anything and win, and yet somehow they’d both contributed the most to the mounting pile of sandwich carcasses in the trash.

“I can clearly cook well enough, Hunk, I did live on my own for a year,” Keith growls as he stared down at his current trial. The look on his face makes it seem as if it’s offended him somehow.

Or, maybe more like it’s offended Shiro, since Hunk is pretty sure that’s the only thing that would get his eyebrows looking that angry.

“I’m not sure microwavable meals count,” Hunk says as he continues, trying not to cringe as Keith prematurely shoves his spatula beneath the sandwich to flip it, effectively resulting in the sandwich falling apart. A loud sizzle erupted from the pan as the cheese met metal, and for a moment, Hunk swears he sees Galra yellow flash in Keith’s eyes.

Avoiding the dark waves rolling off the paladin, Hunk turns to Shiro and his stovetop.

Which, is off completely.

“Shiro, my man, I hate to break it to you, but you need to turn it on for it to work,” he says, slightly worried at the way the captain is standing with his arms folded across his chest and his face set in determination.

“Patience, Hunk,” Shiro says back, staring down at the bread, butter and cheese before him. “Patience yields focus.”

Shaking his head with a sigh, Hunk just pats him on the shoulder before moving on. It’s probably for the best, really. He isn’t sure he’ll survive the death of another pan.

A shudder rolls down his spine as he thinks about the destroyed, blackened metal of the last one. They’d all taken a moment of silence before dispatching it in the dumpster out back to the tune of Taps.

With slow strides, he moves passed Shiro and towards Pidge, who is in the middle of transporting a sandwich from her skillet to a plate. Heart swelling, Hunk traces the perfectly golden surface and its cheese touched edges.

A sharp crisp crackles in the air as she uses the sharp edge of her spatula to cut it into halves.

“Pidge,” Hunk says, voice wavering with pride as she pulls it apart to expose long strings of melted yellow that stretch long between the two triangles. Light flashes off her glasses she she turns to him with a wide, impish grin.

“You did it,” he continues, somewhat in awe as he ignores the sound of grilled chaos behind him.

Pushing a crisp corner between her teeth, Pidge bites into it, chewing it slowly before answering.

“Of course I did,” she says with a shrug, pushing her glasses up with her free hand. “There’s a science to making grilled cheese, you know.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Hunk can’t help but smile as he feels the bright sweetness of hope for the first time that afternoon.

Maybe, they’d be okay after all.

***


	17. Hot & Heavy in the ATLAS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: Can we get some smexy sheith in the ATLAS?
>
>> “Is this what you wanted?” Shiro asks, biting the word out at his ear as he looks out over the abandoned garage, his silver eyes glinting otherworldly in the reflection of the bridge’s window. At this time of night, Keith knows there won’t be anyone to see them, but a thrill skitters down his spine at the mere thought of _what if._
>> 
>> What if, someone happened to make a late night run to the hangar?
>> 
>> What if, that someone looked up?
>> 
>> What if, they did see him, palms splayed against the glass, uniform jacket open and pants down around his knees?
>> 
>> _What if?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** NSFW.
> 
> Here to close out my fandom appreciation prompts, I bring you, smexy sheith in the ATLAS. A minor heads up, we uh, jump right on in.

Shiro’s breath is hot on the back of his neck, burning like a brand as he grinds against him, each hard thrust jolting him against the cool glass he has him pressed against. Keith’s shuddering gasps puff against the pane, coming to life as a huff of fog that obscures the dark hangar below before fading away to nothing.

“Is this what you wanted?” Shiro asks, biting the word out at his ear as he looks out over the abandoned garage, his silver eyes glinting otherworldly in the reflection of the bridge’s window. At this time of night, Keith knows there won’t be anyone to see them, but a thrill skitters down his spine at the mere thought of  _what if._

What if, someone happened to make a late night run to the hangar?

What if, that someone looked up?

What if, they did see him, palms splayed against the glass, uniform jacket open and pants down around his knees?

_What if?_

“Yes,”  Keith pushes between his teeth, trying to bite down on a moan as Shiro’s flesh hand closes over the back of his, twining their fingers as he continues his unhurried pace.

“Yes, what?” He asks, dipping his voice until it’s drenched in authority in a way that makes goosebumps run along Keith’s arms. Cold metal brushes along his collar bones as Shiro draws his metallic palm over his chest and then down, slowly.

Teasing.

Stars pop against his vision as it stops just below his navel.

“Yes, what?” Shiro repeats, letting the question tickle the back of Keith’s ear before he pressed it into his skin with a kiss.

“Yes, sir,” Keith grinds out, hips snapping back to meet Shiro’s, trying to urge his pace to quicken and push him over the edge that he’s currently standing on. It’s a knifepoint, sharp and focused, keeping him balanced just above the smallest death that he was seeking.

“And what exactly did you want, Keith?” His tone is dangerous as his palm continues to drag its frozen touch down to take him in his hand. The contact, while gentle, feels all too sudden, stealing his breath in the form of a loud gasp that has his head falling back against Shiro’s shoulder.

“I wanted them to see,” Keith pants as he begins to pump his fist in time with his thrusts, the duel drag creating a firestorm that erupted in his chest. Long lines of fire danced along the tracks of his veins, making his skin ache with hypersensitivity.

“To see what?” Shiro whispers, nosing again at his hair before dipping lower to drag his lips over his quickened pulse.

“That I’m yours,” he whispers back, words sent to the heavens before his mouth twisted around another keen as Shiro’s hip pushed impossibly deeper.

“And?” His inquiry is coated in a growl, barbed and demanding as Shiro bit at his throat before soothing the pinched skin with his tongue. The expanding wildfire in his chest burnt recklessly against his sternum, turning white against the back of his eyelids as they fell shut.

Small, sharp gasps punched through Keith’s throat with each of Shiro’s thrusts as he tried to ground himself long enough to answer.

“And that,” he starts, opening his eyes to level his stare with Shiro’s in the window’s reflection. They’re dark, the silver tarnished by the all consuming black of his pupils as he watches him.

“You’re mine,” Keith finishes, words barely formed as he arches against Shiro’s back and comes in his fist. Breathing heavily, he rides the crest of his pleasure, clutching at Shiro’s hand as he continues to thrust into him, chasing his own high before finding it several seconds later.

Hips stuttering to a halt, Keith’s arms finally give out as they both fall forward into the glass. The cool surface is welcome, beating back the heat that has charred his skin and continues to burn against his back as Shiro breathes against.

“I am yours,” he affirms after what feels like hours of them just breathing each other in, his lips finding Keith’s neck once more in a softer way. A small laugh rumbles in his chest, vibrating through them both as he pushes against Shiro’s chest just enough for him to turn his face towards him.

“I know,” Keith replies softly, chasing Shiro’s lips with a chaste kiss. It’s a simple thing that curls his toes before they pull apart.

“And I am yours,” he continues, squeezing at Shiro’s hand as his eyes crinkle at their edges, his mouth upturning in a teasing smile. “But we should probably get things cleaned up, captain.”

Turning his gaze upward and humming in mock thought, Shiro’s own mouth turns at its edges before he presses in closer, keeping Keith caged against ATLAS’ window.

“I don’t know, cadet,” he says low and slow, “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

***


	18. Murder!Kureith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [seethatswhyibiteu](seethatswhyibiteu.tumblr.com) asked: Here is the following prompt : A didn't know the feeling of panic, until he woke up hand-cuffed to a chair, with his significant other B sitting on the sofa opposite of him, and realized he discovered all the skeletons in his closet. Pairing would be Kureith (Kuron & Keith).
>
>> “What do you want?” Keith asks lowly, searching his differences that stand like a stark contrast against his tanned skin. This close, they’re more apparent, screaming out until they don’t look anything alike at all.
>> 
>> There is, however, one thing that they do share. 
>> 
>> A dimple. One that presses deep into Kuron’s right cheek with the push of his grin. It’s a genuine thing as he drops his hands to Keith’s thighs, squeezing just this side of painful.
>> 
>> A mewling groan tears itself from him as the darkness prattles along his ribcage, looking for a point of escape.
>> 
>> “Maybe I just want to join in on the action."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Tags:** Referenced murder
> 
> Y'all, this is very different for me and dark. If the idea of Keith killing Shiro's husband and Kuron tryna be his murder!FWB ain't your thing, turn back now.
> 
> This was born from mine and [sequencefairy's](https://tmblr.co/mdWFrFwuTN1uCyav-Z5ajgA) murderer!Keith AU that we've had in our DMs for awhile. It's a real good time lol

“Good morning, baby.”

The words slide down Keith’s back wrapped in a cool brusqueness that is just a shade short of familiar. Full of quiet grit that hides behind a smoothed facade, it pulls goosebumps across his skin.

Tickling in an almost haunting way, Keith shifts through the last vestiges of his sleep as his eyelids flutter as he registers the burning ache of his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” The voice asks as he pulls at his arms to alleviate the tension that has pulled his joints into such a painful angle only to find his hands held together behind by skin warmed cuffs.

It’s then, that Keith opens his eyes and looks at  _him_.

“Shiro?” The name sticks itself to the inside of his throat, all pines and needles that make it come out harsh as he looks at the man before him.

He’s the picture of ease with his arms spread along the back of Keith’s own couch, neck pulled back as he looks down the bridge of his nose at him with a smile turned wolfish.

Hungry, even.

It’s a look that Keith would covet if it wasn’t for the slight shortness of his forelock, or the dark gleam the turns his gaze to onyx, or the lack of gold wrapped around his left ring finger.

They’re subtle differences, small enough to be missed if he hadn’t already committed everything Shiro was to memory.

“No,” Keith growls as he pushes his back straighter against the chair he’s cuffed to, turning his gaze into something sharp as he looks the almost familiar stranger over.

“Who are you?” He asks, metal biting into his skin as he tugs on the handcuffs once more in a vain attempt at freedom. It earns him a dangerous laugh as the man shifts forward, lacing his fingers together before he presses his elbows to the tops of his thighs and his chin onto the surface he’d created.

“Keith,” the man breathes, watching him with all the same care of a viper. “It’s me.”

It sounds like every bit the lie that it is as the man’s lips curl up, carrying the same shape of an inside joke. Shaking his head, Keith moves forward, ignoring the protest in his shoulders as he pulls as far as his bound arms allow.

“You’d have a better time convincing someone else,” he hisses, flicking his soldering gaze down to the empty space around his finger. “Shiro hasn’t given up just yet.”

The admission only makes the stranger’s smile widen.

His canines, Keith notices, are sharper.

“Takashi was always a fool who couldn’t quite see what was right in front of him,” he agrees with a contented hum as he also leans forward.

“Kuron,” Keith finally acknowledges, saying his name low and sharp like a curse. Shiro’s twin had always been an off limits topic. Forgotten and pushed into the far corner of his closet along with his skeletons, Shiro avoided bringing him up, so Keith had followed suit.

But not until after he’d gotten his name.

A small, pleased sound ground itself at the back of Kuron’s throat as he dragged his look over Keith, luxuriating in the way it made Keith shift in the seat.

He isn’t  _him_ , but he can still feel that stare deep beneath his skin and it simmers. Festers, really, in a way that leaves him almost breathless.

“So where is he?” Kuron asks casually, pushing himself off the couch to saunter closer. He leaves the  _he_  that he means as nothing more than a hollow implication. Not that Keith needs any explanation.

 _Curtis_ , a small voice hisses as the dark thing that’s trapped behind his ribs rattled against its cage, purring with twisted joy.

The man—  _Shiro’s husband_ , the voice reminds— had been nice in the same unremarkable way as anything that could be surmised as just okay. Curtis was a day where nothing went particularly right or wrong, weather that was neither too hot or too cold, and a gentle look that was neither a smile or a frown.

Pleasant, but unmemorable.

Just,  _nice_.

So nice, that Keith had almost choked on it.

“Pushing up daisies?” Kuron continues, pulling Keith from his thoughts as he dropped down before him, wrapping his fingers on the armrests that bracket his thighs. His eyes shined brightly as he looked up at him through his bangs.

The question hangs between them as Keith regards him, slowly tracing the unscarred bridge of his nose.

They were so alike, and yet so different. Different sides of the same coin.

Black and white, with Keith’s dubious grey caught in between.

Dragging his stare back up to catch Kuron’s, he feels the upturned slice of his own grin before he can bite down on it.

“Roses,” he acquiesces, relishing the questioning look he gets as Shiro’s twin cocks his head. Flicking his eyes toward the approximate location of his garden, he purrs.

“He’s pushing up roses.”

The air shimmers with Kuron’s husking laugh as he leans in closer and Keith feels the heat rolling off his chest in thick waves. It tickles his knees and fills his blood with a smoldering, tempting fire.

“You have a gift,” Kuron’s voice is genuine and his eyes are bright with the light of the room. “Those roses are the most beautiful red.”

The dark thing twists again, its malicious content making itself known in the sound that works its way from Keith’s throat as he leans impossibly closer. His vision fills with black gold in striking opposition to the clear silver he’s so used to.

A sigh, heavy and sweet like poisoned honey, tickles across Keith’s lips as Kuron holds his stare. There’s a challenge in it as he doesn’t back down.

“What do you want?” Keith asks lowly, searching his differences that stand like a stark contrast against his tanned skin. This close, they’re more apparent, screaming out until they don’t look anything alike at all.

There is, however, one thing that they do share. 

A dimple. One that presses deep into Kuron’s right cheek with the push of his grin. It’s a genuine thing as he drops his hands to Keith’s thighs, squeezing just this side of painful.

A mewling groan tears itself from him as the darkness prattles along his ribcage, looking for a point of escape.

“Maybe I just want to join in on the action,” Kuron says slowly, lips whispering against Keith’s. The following pause is short. Nothing more than a suspended moment, but it’s enough as he feels something snap in him.

Pushing against the tight pain of his joints, Keith finds nothing but empty space as Kuron pulls back.

His smile is a scythe that slips between Keith’s ribs as he keeps himself just out of reach.

“Now why would I let you do that?” Keith growls, tracing the curving path of his cupid’s bow.

He doesn’t need the help. Has never needed the help. Keith is good at what he does and all the proof he needed of that was the aging missing posters with their fading ink that echoed the town’s fading interest.

Yet, he’s intrigued all the same.

There’s something dangerous that crackles and sparks as Kuron pushes his palms up further along his thighs.

Keith watches him carefully as he lets them fall open in invitation.

“Because I have such a pretty, pretty face,” Kuron soothes before pushing himself up. Dragging his lips in a slow, acidic line over the high of his cheek, he only stops to press them at the skin just before his ear.

“And I’m great with a knife.”

The dark thing roared with pleasure as Keith turned his head, capturing Kuron’s mouth in an angry kiss of teeth. It burns bright, filled with noxious fumes as he traces his tongue across the full of his lip before following it with a sharp, angry bite.

Swallowing Kuron’s moan, Keith lingers on the sound, filing it away next to his brother’s before pulling away.

Lips pulled high around a pointed grin, Kuron wipes a thumb across his lips, collecting the bright scarlet of his blood on its pad.

It’s a shade almost as lovely as his roses.

“Alright,” Keith hums along with the darkness. “Show me what you’ve got.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Year's prompts will be posted MWF until they're all up!


	19. For Puck's Sake Keith POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [Gunny](https://twitter.com/Gunmetalr0se) who asked for some more hockey AU :3
>
>> Takashi Shirogane, captain of the Altean Lions, was never supposed to be anything more than just another rival on the ice.
>> 
>> Of course, he also wasn’t supposed to have sent Keith’s heart banging against his ribs with a single, silver slice of a stare over their handshake either.
>> 
>> Nor was he supposed to be every bit the player that he himself had always hoped to be.
>> 
>> Nor, was he supposed to make such beautiful noises as he was pushed up against a locker.
>> 
>> Most importantly, Keith wasn’t supposed to have left his number for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would be a liar if I said I didn't consider just writing you Part 3 of this AU, Gunny, but then I realized I needed just a wee bit more time to make that happen XD so please accept this humble Keith POV from their first date after Part 1!
> 
>  **Tags:** Fluff, the glass shattering reveal that minx!Keith is really just a hopeless mess but what else is new

Takashi Shirogane, captain of the Altean Lions, was never supposed to be anything more than just another rival on the ice.

Of course, he also wasn’t supposed to have sent Keith’s heart banging against his ribs with a single, silver slice of a stare over their handshake either.

Nor was he supposed to be every bit the player that he himself had always hoped to be.

Nor, was he supposed to make such beautiful noises as he was pushed up against a locker.

Most importantly, Keith wasn’t supposed to have left his number for him.

It had almost been an out of body experience, his thumb moving of its own accord, led by the spell that the other captain had cast on him as he’d typed his name and number into the device alongside one combined set of a colon and parenthesis.

That fatal mistake, was how Keith quickly learned, he hadn’t been prepared for what Takashi Shirogane was truly meant to be at all.

Because now, two weeks and the first loss of his season later, he couldn’t stop the steady thrum of his heart as he waited outside the far too fancy restaurant with his mind stuck on the conversation that had landed him there.

**Our next game is in two weeks. How about a wager?**

**_name your terms_ **

**If I win, I get to take you on a date.**

**_and if i win?_ **

**You can have anything you want.**

**_deal_ **

**Keith?**

**_yeah_ **

**Don’t count on winning**

Keith’s cheeks still flushed just thinking about the cocky text, and how Shiro had made good on his word. Winning the game look as easy as breathing as he’d unleashed his singleminded focus on the Blades and singlehandedly earned all four of the Lions’ goals.

It would have wounded his pride if it hadn’t left him awestruck with the repeating thread of  **I get to take you on a date**  running a steady string of text in the back of his mind.

Excitement had left his nerves crackling in a way he felt down into his toes standing there on the ice until he was certain he’d explode with it as the other captain had skated by with bright smile and wink in his direction.

“You’re thinking loudly,” a lilting voice crashed him back down from his memory, “I hope it’s of something good.”

Keith doesn’t miss the way it sounds a lot like he means  _someone_  good as he finds himself staring down the barrel of the very stare he’d been thinking of. White noise and butterflies erupted at his core as he took in the hockey player. Cutting an impressive figure in his fitted dark jeans, crisp white v-neck and black leather jacket, Shiro looks like the devil himself.

Beautiful, and dangerous, and like someone Keith desperately wants to take home.

His mouth pools as he traces the strong line of Shiro’s leather hugged shoulders and remembers the mark he’d left between them.

“Just thinking about how this isn’t much of a loss for me if you’re paying for dinner,” he manages to quip, silently praying he doesn’t sound as hopelessly breathless as he feels. Shiro’s answering smile is bright as stardust and full of teeth.

“I know,” he says, nodding his head toward the restaurant before stepping ahead of him to push the door open. Holding it, he ushers Keith forward, and in turn, Keith tries to ignore the way his heart grows wings.

A wave of heat crashes against his back as he walks through, Shiro following close behind. Breath brushes as his ear in the only warning he gets of his proximity before the other captain whispers, “that’s why I chose it.”

The words leave a burning tickle at the side of his neck as Shiro walks around his stalled frame to introduce himself to the maitre d’.

“I have a reservation for two under Shirogane?” Keith faintly hears him say as he reaches a tepid hand up to trace the shape of his breath along his skin. Something about the way it has branded itself against the juncture of his jaw and neck as made his blood run hotter, and the room seem brighter.

He tries to ignore the fact that all the light seems to emanate from one singular point as Shiro turns to him, waving him along with that ever present smile as the host steps forward to lead them to their table.

“Keith,” Shiro says, turning his name into something soft as he lets his palm settle ever so gently at the small of his back as they follow close behind. It’s a subtle move that curls his toes as they find themselves at a private table toward the back of the restaurant.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the maitre d’ says, setting their menus before either seat.

“Thank you,” Shiro offers with a nod, earning them a quiet smile before the host turns on his heel to return to his station. With his tongue still stuck to the roof of his mouth, Keith reaches for his chair, only to find Shiro’s hand already on it.

With his own secretive grin, the Lion pulls the seat back and nods down to it for him to sit.

It’s another small gesture, and it leaves Keith reeling as he settles down into the seat. There’s a different kind of small death promised in it as he feels fingertips brush along the back of his collar before Shiro pulls away and moves to his own chair.

“Thanks,” Keith manages, as he watches the other captain pull his jacket off. For a stolen moment, he wonders if he’s imagining the looks of the other diners on him, and the sudden sharp tang of an unfamiliar emotion on his tongue.

Dropping into the seat, Keith can feel the stir of something changing as he files away the sight of Shiro’s dark lashes against the backdrop of his tanned skin.

 _He’s different_ , Keith thinks, as he watches his strong hands brush over the leather bound menu.

The realization, is quick, hitting him with all the force of a body check as his visions seems to focus to a new point of clarity.

Takashi Shirogane, captain of the Altean Lions, was never supposed to be anything more than a rival on the ice. And yet, in that moment with the low light of the restaurant playing across his face like soft sunshine, he looks like a future.

A future that sets something shifting in Keith’s chest as he opens his menu and flicks his gaze up to him, the silver of his eyes sparkling with fresh polish.

“So,” he smiles, and Keith feels it make its mark. “What do you want?”


	20. Five Years Later Frat AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [sequencefairy](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com/) asked: Sheith, frat 'verse, homecoming five (or more?) years after graduation. Successful, married sheith coming back to relive their glory days and probably get up to some shenanigans on Greek row. Nsfw greatly encouraged.
>
>> Something about the idea of being back at the Beta house with five years of life under his belt and the weight of a platinum band around his finger had left Keith burning for the glory days of Shiro’s touch after a hard fought victory.
>> 
>> Not that he hadn’t known an unlimited amount of touches in the years since they’d graduated. In fact, he always looked forward to the end of his work day if only because he knew he’d be coming home to Shiro’s smile and their California King.
>> 
>> But there was something to be said about the way Shiro’s hands tracked long lines of forest fires across his skin with his fervent need to soothe his loss.
>> 
>> Maybe he wasn’t the flip cup champion, but Keith always made sure he still had a prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that like, obviously I love getting every prompt, but there’s something about getting a prompt for your own ‘verse that is like, really freaking awesome. So catch me cryin’ doin’ this follow up for Four Years because they’re so in love, it’s stupid.
> 
>  **Tags:** NSFW for blowjobs

“Why did we never do this while we were here?” Keith growls into the dark of the shed, dropping his head back and holding Shiro close to the spot of his throat that he’s currently working between his teeth.

“Maybe because then, they could kick us out,” Shiro hums, the huff of his words cooling the slicked expanse of skin. It sends a roll of electricity cascading through his veins that makes him shiver with anticipation.

“Mm,” Keith almost purrs as he starts to trace the path of his vein down toward his naked collar. A small flutter tightens his stomach as Shiro’s knuckles brush sweetly against it as he makes quick work of his belt.

“Being an alum with a checkbook sure does make a difference,” he still manages as he feels the pop of the button.

“A checkbook that could have saved me the heartache of another loss,” Shiro says around a sharp bite just above his heart. The pinch makes his smile widen as he draws his hands away to let Shiro continue his singleminded trek down his body.

“It was for charity, baby,” Keith gasps, pulling his hands away to reach up at the shelving behind him as Shiro gives a quick tug at his jeans.

It’s only half of a truth. 

The game truly had been for charity. The Alphas and Betas had worked long and hard to coordinate a lineup of alumni for their current members to bet on, with all proceeds going to charity no matter who walked away with the bragging rights.

Keith would be a liar if he said he hadn’t an ulterior motive, though, when he’d marked him and Shiro down for the game.

Something about the idea of being back at the Beta house with five years of life under his belt and the weight of a platinum band around his finger had left Keith burning for the glory days of Shiro’s touch after a hard fought victory.

Not that he hadn’t known an unlimited amount of touches in the years since they’d graduated. In fact, he always looked forward to the end of his work day if only because he knew he’d be coming home to Shiro’s smile and their California King.

But there was something to be said about the way Shiro’s hands tracked long lines of forest fires across his skin with his fervent need to soothe his loss.

Maybe he wasn’t the flip cup champion, but Keith always made sure he still had a prize.

“Have I told you today how beautiful you are?” Shiro soothes as he falls gracefully to his knees. It’s a sight Keith isn’t sure he’ll ever tire of as he feels thumbs rub circles at his hipbones and the chaste press of Shiro’s lips at his stomach before he continues his descent.

“I think you said something to that effect this morning,” he moans, hips rolling helplessly in chase of the soft brush of breath at his tip.

“Or maybe,” Keith bites his lip as Shiro licks a long line against the underside of his cock, “it was before we left?”

Huffing a small laugh, Shiro wraps his large hand around him, looking up through his bangs with his mouth parted prettily just short of where Keith desperately wants it to be.

“Well let me tell you again,” he smiles, wide and dangerous as the light through the small shed window gilds his profile. It makes him look inhuman, and Keith aches with his want as he continues, “and maybe this time you’ll remember.”

Shiro takes him easily, slowly, as he swirls his tongue around the head before swallowing him down. It’s the best kind of torture as he feels the soft stretch of Shiro’s throat around him and roll of his tongue. The sharp wood of the shelf cuts lines into his palms as he squeezes in search of an anchor as he heads falls back with his moan.

It’s moments like these that he finds himself thanking whatever gods there may be for the music that shakes the shed and swallows his sounds.

They were meant for Shiro, and Shiro alone.

Moving in earnest, Keith’s hips meet his mouth with wet, sloppy noises as he hums around him in the way that he knows he likes. It sends a fuzzy race of nerves to the center of his being, each one lighting with a fire that he knows will leave him charred, but he prays for it anyway.

“Shiro,” his name punches out of him as he pries a hand from the shelf, reaching for Shiro’s instead. There’s a moment of reverent clarity as Keith squeezes hard enough to feel his wedding band cut into his finger.

He doesn’t last much longer as Shiro pulls him to his finish, his climax rolling through him on the back of his quiet moan that he knows Shiro hears if only because he feels the reassuring squeeze of his hand and the pleased sound as he swallows.

Keith drowns in it for just a moment, enjoying the way his limbs go heavy and the blown star in his ribs blissfully fades as Shiro pulls away.

Looking up with a wide smile, he pulls their hands to his mouth and places a kiss to Keith’s knuckles.

“I love you, babe,” he brushes across his skin. “Even if you still kick my ass at drinking games.”

His laugh is almost drowned out by a raucous sound of excitement from the party outside as Keith pulls on their joined hands to guide Shiro up.

Meeting him in a slow, warm kiss, he wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling him close.

“I love you too,” Keith returns, scratching his fingers into the short hair at Shiro’s nape as he brushes their noses together.

“Now,” he breathes against Shiro’s lips with a wicked smile, “let me see if I can make it up to you.”

***


	21. Ballroom Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [spiffylion](http://spiffylion.tumblr.com/) asked: HAPPY NEW YEAR VICCII!! thank you for doing this!! Prompt: masquerade au or ballroom dancing au
>
>> “I take it this is your first time?” Shiro asks, eyes sparkling with shining teasing as he looked down at him. He continues to move, letting himself be easily pushed around the floor just off beat to the music.
>> 
>> “You mean my years of training aren’t shining through right now?” Keith deadpans, turning his attention away so he doesn’t catch fire beneath Shiro’s look. Instead, he finds where Lance is dancing with Allura with much, much better results. He catches Lance’s look just as Allura dropped her head to his shoulder, her own shaking around her laughter.
>> 
>> Keith glares.
>> 
>> Lance smiles.
>> 
>> “It’s okay, I wasn’t much better my first time,” Shiro muses, pulling him back with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He thinks it’s meant to be some kind of reassurance, but feels a lot closer to an attempt on his life. Timed to the jolt of his heart, Keith steps on his foot again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t lie here, friend, this one was really nice to write. Not that they aren’t all fun to write, but I always love when I get to write a meet cute lol ~~please also accept the small bit of allurance i got on in there~~
> 
>  **Tags:** Fluff, First Meetings, The End of Shiro's Feet

_How did I get here_ , Keith wonders as he continues to track the steps of the dance in some vain attempt to not step on his partner’s foot yet again.

Not that he supposes it matters since that’s exactly what is going to happen in three, two, one—

“Sorry,” Keith grumbles almost before he sees the man— Shiro, he had said his name was— wince as he heel found his instep. “Are you sure you don’t want to lead?”

He tries not to think about how his own voice sounds dismayed as he looks up. Shiro had been nothing but kind this whole time. Valiantly volunteering to be his partner, he’d signed himself away to a night of being stepped on.

Keith wasn’t even really mean to be there, a fact he bemoans as he continues his pale imitation of leading. Lance had begged him to come along under the pretense of Allura needing more guys to attend the dance class she was teaching this semester.

_Come on, Keith, she needs more guys and I need her to think I’m cool._

_No amount of me helping will do that for you._

The ill fated conversation replayed in his head in the same way as a flashback in a horror film, ending with the moment they’d crossed the threshold of the dance room.

_It doesn’t look like they need more guys._

_Trust me, it’s an illusion. They always clear out when things get started._

Except, they didn’t, and for what was apparently the first time since the start of her classes, there were too many male dancers.

Two, too many, to be exact.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” Shiro’s laugh was a heated breath against his hair and a low rumble in his chest that made Keith’s cheeks flush.

As if the whole thing hadn’t already been a string of the most unfortunate events, Shiro had to be the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Broad, and tall, he was composed of bold brushstrokes and strong lines, with eyes as soft as satin.

“I take it this is your first time?” Shiro asks, eyes sparkling with shining teasing as he looked down at him. He continues to move, letting himself be easily pushed around the floor just off beat to the music.

“You mean my years of training aren’t shining through right now?” Keith deadpans, turning his attention away so he doesn’t catch fire beneath Shiro’s look. Instead, he finds where Lance is dancing with Allura with much, much better results. He catches Lance’s look just as Allura dropped her head to his shoulder, her own shaking around her laughter.

Keith glares.

Lance smiles.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t much better my first time,” Shiro muses, pulling him back with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He thinks it’s meant to be some kind of reassurance, but feels a lot closer to an attempt on his life. Timed to the jolt of his heart, Keith steps on his foot again.

“Sorry,” he says lowly, suddenly all too aware of just how close they really are. Shiro huffs another small laugh, and its all consuming, enveloping him with warmth as he feels him shake his head.

“So does that mean you come here often?” Keith continues after a momentary silence.

“Not really,” Shiro replies easily, his shrug pulling his shirt against Keith’s palm at the small of his back. “Allura’s my roommate and sometimes she asks me to come along to boost numbers.”

There’s a sudden shift of command as Shiro side steps them out of the way of another couple. Face flushing, he looks up with a sorry already settled on his lips only to be met with Shiro’s own apologetic smile before he finishes his answer.

“Apparently I wasn’t really needed this time around.”

Nodding, Keith continues the push of the three step flow.

“Lance had told me she’s had problems getting enough partners for her class,” he says, filling his tone with understanding.

“He’s a good guy,” Shiro’s reply is accompanied by a quick flick of his gaze toward their friends.

“A good guy that owes me several dinners after this,” Keith scoffs. It earns him another firestorm laugh that sets heat rolling up to the tips of his ears.

“Is dancing with me really that bad?” Shiro asks, squeezing his hand and shifting the touch at his shoulder so that it fits perfectly in his palm. The very feel of it almost makes Keith moan as he rolls the joint up into it.

“No,” he breaths before he realizes he’s answering. A small sound of content rumbles through Shiro’s chest, vibrating through them both as he uses his hold to pull him closer.

“Good,” Shiro says into his hair as an electric thrill runs down his spine, “because I was thinking maybe I could buy you dinner instead.”

There’s a single, solitary moment of panic as Keith steps on his foot one last time as the music fades. The room stalls, every couple pulling apart with polite smiles and gentle claps for the last dance. At the front of the class, Allura says something to the effect of  _good class_  and  _see you next week_ , but all Keith can really focus on is the expectant look that’s working hot lines into his skin.

Swallowing down the fluttering heart battering at the top of his throat, he nods.

“Yeah,” Keith says around a smile. “I think I’d like that.”

***


	22. Hold Onto Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [smartcookie727](https://smartcookie727.tumblr.com/) asked: How about "Hold onto me" for sheith :D   
>  +  
> [miyuki4s](https://miyuki4s.tumblr.com/) asked: I would like to request post s7 Sheith discussing Naxzela please. It be nice to have their numerous brushes with death address somehow.
>
>> Each and every one of his twisting thoughts escaped him on a broken sob and the tears that streaked his cheeks as he felt the soft brush of fingertips tilt his chin up. Even through the wet darkness, Shiro could still make out the sharp lines of Keith’s face, and the softened amethyst of his gaze.
>> 
>> Of all the dark universes, expanding stars and growing planets that Shiro had seen in the small eternity he could call his life, Keith was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
>> 
>> “Shiro,” he breathed again. It sounded more like a prayer than a question as he brushed the pad of his thumb across the wetness painting his cheek. Quietly searching, he waited for an answer with the sweet acceptance of someone who would also take his silence as enough.
>> 
>> But his silence was what had gotten him here in the first place, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all don't mind me combining these prompts, I just thought they'd fit really well together! Consider this set in a s8 sans epilogue because some of the lines here REALLY FUCKING HURT if we consider it in s8 with epilogue lol ~~im a sad bitch but im not that sad of a bitch my heart literally cant handle that. also please forgive me for tweaking the zethrid interaction a bit. again, imagine this is from a different s8 lol~~
> 
>  **Tags:** Hurt/Comfort, sliiiiightly s8 compliant but really only in that Zethrid gets a hold of Keith

The quiet dark of Shiro’s room is suffocating as it weighs heavy on his shoulders with the image of Keith clutched to Zethrid’s chest with a blaster pressed to his temple. Even then, staring down the barrel of his own death, he’d still stood proud and strong in a way that had torn Shiro apart.

Anger tore itself from his throat in a snarl as he dropped his head into his palms, fixing his gaze down at the floor of his room.

Sitting there now, he can still feel the curious looks of his crew as they’d returned back to the Atlas. Can feel the scores they’d left at his back as he’d pushed himself past without a word and marched to his room in search of a quiet place to fall apart.

He’d almost lost him again. It was just another knot in a growing string of near misses that felt as if it was leading Keith further and further away.

So Shiro escaped, leaving his teams to pick up the leftover pieces while he fell into his own.

What felt like hours past as Shiro searched through the spaces of his own convoluted timeline when he heard the soft sound of his door opening.

Even through the crushing despair, he felt the far off warmth the sound offered as there was only one other person with access to his room.

“Shiro?” Keith’s voice is quiet, a crackling fire to light the darkness as his near silent footsteps bring him closer to Shiro. He knows he should say something. Anything. But he can’t seem to push any words past the choking lump in his throat.

“Hey,” Keith tries again, his presence like a pleasant ache in Shiro’s bones as he stands before him. “Shiro, what’s wrong?”

 _Everything_ , he wants to say. Time and time again Keith had saved him. From alien beings. From the universe. From death itself.

Yet Shiro still hadn’t been able to do the same.

Not at Naxzela, as he’d watched helplessly, voice screaming to no one from the endless void as Keith had taken the nosedive toward a fiery end.

Not on Earth, as he’d watched from the Atlas with his shout stuck in his throat and his hands useless at the helm as the lions had fallen from the sky.

Not here, as he’d watched from mere yards away with his fear locking his limbs as the Galran pirate had clutched all he’d ever loved within her hands.

 _I’ll make you feel my loss_ , she had threatened without knowing that he’d already felt her loss in the narrow misses of the universe trying to tear Keith away. Every time Keith had fought back tooth and nail against odds and fate, but crushed beneath the weight of the lonely dark, Shiro couldn’t help but get caught on the thought of a next time where he wouldn’t.

Maybe even couldn’t.

Would Shiro still stand by idly, unable to break free of his own binds as the only light and stars he’d truly cared about was snuffed out?

Each and every one of his twisting thoughts escaped him on a broken sob and the tears that streaked his cheeks as he felt the soft brush of fingertips tilt his chin up. Even through the wet darkness, Shiro could still make out the sharp lines of Keith’s face, and the softened amethyst of his gaze.

Of all the dark universes, expanding stars and growing planets that Shiro had seen in the small eternity he could call his life, Keith was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Shiro,” he breathed again. It sounded more like a prayer than a question as he brushed the pad of his thumb across the wetness painting his cheek. Quietly searching, he waited for an answer with the sweet acceptance of someone who would also take his silence as enough.

But his silence was what had gotten him here in the first place, wasn’t it?

The static sound of quiet that kept him a prisoner, unable to do what he truly needed to do, and say what he truly needed to say.

“Hold onto me,” Shiro heard himself say through the voice of a stranger, brusque and broken, as he pled for forgiveness Keith didn’t even know he was asking for. It causes Keith pause, but only long enough to stretch the sound of a breath before he pressed an arm at the back of his neck and pulls him close.

Fingers, strong and gentle, carded through his hair in the form of divine absolution as Shiro lost himself the the feeling of Keith’s breaths beneath his cheek.

 _He’s alive_ , Shiro thinks to himself as he winds his own arms around the small of Keith’s back, reveling in the feel of his almost burning touch. Another sob wrenches his lips apart as his tears wet Keith’s undershirt.

“I’m here, Shiro,” Keith hushes, fingers working a soothing reminder of that very truth at the nape of his neck as he traced the line of his hair.

“I almost lost you,” Shiro manages to say, squeezing tight for just a moment just for the sole fact that he could. “I keep almost losing you and I can never seem to stop it from happening.”

The words cut his throat to ribbons as he feels Keith’s touch stall. They don’t stop coming as he turns his nose to trace a line against his stomach.

“Why can’t I save you? Why can’t I stop the universe from trying to snatch you away?”

Keith’s touch returns, still gentle but filled with determined intent as it drags a lines of fire along the back of his neck.

“Takashi,” his name on Keith’s lips skitters down his spine, leaving him razed by the breathy syllables. The burn of his fingertips tickles the line of his jaw as Keith traced it, only stopping long enough to gently press up.

Taking the hint, Shiro fixes his watery gaze upward, still nosing softly at Keith’s stomach.

His look is soft, mixed with a fondness he doesn’t deserve and Shiro feels his breath hitch.

 _Don’t go where I can’t follow_ , he wants to say around the the burning ache eating a hole in his chest. The words, much like everything else, find themselves trapped on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Keith soothes anyway, almost as if he can see the desperation that has filled Shiro’s veins with darkness. Drawing his touch back to his hair, Keith cards his fingers into the soft strands as Shiro turned back into the taut line of his stomach.

 _Don’t go where I can’t follow_ , he thinks again, pressing the question and all his mistakes to Keith’s skin in the form of a barely there kiss.

Keith’s voice is a guiding light in the dark.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

***


	23. A First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> goldentruth813 asked: maybe some nsfw and the first time Keith calls shiro takashi in bed?
>
>> “Is this okay?” Keith whispers, running a reverent touch along Shiro’s ribs, careful of the inky bruises that stretch across them.
>> 
>> “Yes,” Shiro gasps, arching up into the touch and making his smile go sharp as he continues to track kisses down his throat.
>> 
>> The fight had been a brutal one. One that had left them all shaken and bruised, and in need of any kind of comfort upon return to the castle. While the others had sought out their own consolations, Keith had sought out Shiro.
>> 
>> Their newly found relationship was still fragile, balanced by the precarious weight of his own watery confession after the Blade trials. He’d been so raw then, aching in an entirely different way from how he did now as he’d bared his soul to Shiro without any hope or expectation. Keith had never planned for anything in return.
>> 
>> Yet in that moment, blood still slipping from his wounds and body an array of blacks, purples and greens, Shiro had met him in the in between of their friendship, tearing it apart and leaving something entirely new in its place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAND then I cried because they love each other so much omg. Lol, anyway this is set sometime after the BOM trial and before Shiro gets sucked into Black. Why you ask? No reason in particular tbh, it just felt kinda right setting it there in the timeline. ~~also dont mind me as i use this as an opportunity to get in a day for bottom shiro week lol I MAY NOT GET BINGO BUT DAMMIT I FULFILLED THE FINGER BLASTING BLOCK~~
> 
>  **Tags:** NSFW, Bottom Shiro, Shiro has a name kink lol

“Is this okay?” Keith whispers, running a reverent touch along Shiro’s ribs, careful of the inky bruises that stretch across them.

“Yes,” Shiro gasps, arching up into the touch and making his smile go sharp as he continues to track kisses down his throat.

The fight had been a brutal one. One that had left them all shaken and bruised, and in need of any kind of comfort upon return to the castle. While the others had sought out their own consolations, Keith had sought out Shiro.

Their newly found relationship was still fragile, balanced by the precarious weight of his own watery confession after the Blade trials. He’d been so raw then, aching in an entirely different way from how he did now as he’d bared his soul to Shiro without any hope or expectation. Keith had never planned for anything in return.

Yet in that moment, blood still slipping from his wounds and body an array of blacks, purples and greens, Shiro had met him in the in between of their friendship, tearing it apart and leaving something entirely new in its place.

Now, they stole their moments where they could get them. In darkened training rooms, in bedrooms in the cover of night, and even occasionally in Black, when there just wasn’t enough time to get elsewhere.

“Yes,” Shiro huffs again with whole new implication, chest pressing up against his as he kneads his fingers into his hip.

Scraping his teeth down the strong line of his collar bone, Keith hums as he gently grinds down into him, enjoying the drag of his skin against Shiro’s. A small whimper, wanting and desperate, pushes between them and forces Keith’s gaze up.

Eyes flashing in the darkness, he admires the flush that has painted Shiro’s cheeks the prettiest shade, and the way his mouth opens around his gasps.

Continuing his path, Keith nips at a nipple as he reaches for the small plastic bottle on the nightstand.

“What do you want, Shiro?” Keith asks, voice quiet over the gentle popping sound of the cap. Blindly slicking his fingers, he keeps his gaze focused on Shiro as he nuzzles at the space above his heart.

A triumphant smile upturns the edge of his lips as he watches Shiro’s head fall back, pressing into his touch once more.

“You,” he grits, fingers gripping at the sheets at his side.

“Keith, please,” Shiro continues, voice pleading and rough as he opens his eyes just enough to fix him beneath burnt silver.

Dropping the bottle on the bed beside them, Keith moves forward, stealing whatever words are left on the tip of Shiro’s tongue with a kiss. Filled with fire and teeth, they both breathe into it as Keith draws his dry fingers slowly down his thigh.

He feels the shudder it pulls down Shiro’s spine, the feel of it pushing his grin wider before he hooks his hand under his knee and hikes it up.

Placing it over his shoulder, Keith presses him further into the pillows, his middle bending deliciously as he traces at Shiro’s entrance with his slicked fingers.

Swallowing another of Shiro’s gasps as he gently presses in, he can’t help the sound of contentment that rolls through his chest like distant thunder as he starts to work his finger into him.

Keith makes slow work of it, lavishing in every quiet sound his movements pull from Shiro’s lips as he stretches him to three fingers.

It feels like hours as he continues to tease, biting another mark into the base of Shiro’s throat on a particularly loud moan that makes his hips buck.

“Shh,” Keith hushes at his ear, twisting his fingers artfully. “I’ve got you, Takashi.”

It falls from his lips, unbidden and electric, running like a lightning strike up Keith’s spin. It’s the first time he’s said it.

Shiro’s name.

The taste of it, sweet and honeyed, makes his back go rigid as he pulls back just enough to look at Shiro, and apology already replacing its syllables on the tip of his tongue only to be met with a silvered intensity unlike anything he’s ever seen.

It’s sharp and honed, like a blade, as it cuts into him.

Fingers grip at his hair and pull him close as Shiro rolls his hips up into his fingers, opening his mouth around a moan as they push deeper into him.

“Say it again,” he whispers against Keith’s lips, their breaths shared as he continues to work himself against Keith’s frozen hand. Shiro’s fingers pull his hair tighter, and it sparks something deep in his chest as he starts to meet Shiro’s thrusts.

“Takashi,” he whispers, reveling in how it sounds in the smoke of his voice. Pressing it between them with another hot kiss, it’s his turn to gasp when Shiro’s arch slides them together again.

“Takashi,” Keith moans, forearm burning with the pushing twist of his wrist, but he can’t stop.

He won’t stop.

Not when Shiro’s breathing has gone erratic as it has around his sharp whines and his hips stutter against his hand.

Sliding his grip free of Keith’s hair, Shiro draws his palms down his neck to his back, his nails cutting into his shoulder blades as his back arches obscenely.

Beautifully.

It leaves the long line of his neck exposed and Keith licks a long, burning stripe along it before he noses at his ear.

“Takashi,” he says lowly, breathless as he drops a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Shiro’s gasp is loud, tearing through the thick darkness of the room as the warmth of his release paints itself between them. The suddenness of it crashes through him like a wave as Keith works him through the last rolling tides of his pleasure. It isn’t until quiet falls over them, punctuated by their breaths that Keith gently pulls his hand away.

Brushing his lips over the crest of Shiro’s cheek, his face flushing at the small, please sound he makes.

“I’ve got you, Takashi” Keith hums before Shiro turns to capture his lips in a chaste kiss.

He feels the smile, sated and pliant, before Shiro pulls back.

“Yes,” he whispers, reaching to brush a thump across Keith’s cheek. “You do.”

***


	24. Show Jumper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [snowmadien](https://snowmadien.tumblr.com/) asked for Keith winning a show jumper competition, followed by a proposal!
>
>> Shiro had decided to leave everything up to fate.
>> 
>> Red Fate the Lion, to be exact.
>> 
>> _That’s a weird name for a horse, Keith_ , he’d once said as his then new jumper has lovingly stroked the red mare’s flank.
>> 
>> _That’s the point. Aren’t they supposed to have weird names?_ Keith had cooed as the horse whinnied in reply before nudging her nose against his cheek.
>> 
>> How was he supposed to have known then that that new jumper would not only push his own abilities as a coach, but steal all the records he’d once set, and eventually, his heart. That had been almost three years ago, which had all culminated to this singular point in time that had him standing right at the edge of the course, eyes fixed on Red and her rider, and mind set on the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for any incorrect terminology and obvious lack of knowledge about horses and show jumping. YouTube and Wikipedia really tried to help me out XD
> 
>  **Tags:** Show Jumper!Keith, Coach!Shiro, Fluff, Shoddy Horse Knowledge

Shiro had decided to leave everything up to fate.

Red Fate the Lion, to be exact.

 _That’s a weird name for a horse, Keith_ , he’d once said as his then new jumper has lovingly stroked the red mare’s flank.

 _That’s the point. Aren’t they supposed to have weird names?_  Keith had cooed as the horse whinnied in reply before nudging her nose against his cheek.

How was he supposed to have known then that that new jumper would not only push his own abilities as a coach, but steal all the records he’d once set, and eventually, his heart. That had been almost three years ago, which had all culminated to this singular point in time that had him standing right at the edge of the course, eyes fixed on Red and her rider, and mind set on the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket.

Shiro had bought the ring months ago, with no actual plan on when to propose. It had to be perfect, and feel right, and even though he knew Keith wouldn’t care when it happened, Shiro still wanted to do it right.

Needed to do it right.

So the ring had sat hidden away in an old oatmeal box that he kept tucked at the back of the pantry until that morning when something had shifted in his chest and led him to it. It was there, buzzing with unknown excitement at 5:32am, that he decided it would be the day.

Well, as long as Red should decide it was.

“C’mon,” Shiro breathed, watching as Keith and Red set, waiting for the final signal from the announcer to begin. They were the last to run the course, following Lotor and his Purple Grace, who currently sat at the top of standings.

In order to win, Keith would need to make every jump, and shave three seconds off of his fastest time.

It’s not an impossibility, Shiro knows. Though, even if it was, Keith had proven that the laws of impossibility didn’t quite apply to him.

The quiet fade of the announcer’s echoing voice around the course is the only sign of the timed start as Shiro watched Keith dip his head down to Red’s ear, his lips moving around words he can’t hear before she pushes forward with a burst of speed.

Red’s muscles move gracefully beneath her shining coat. Stretching and rippling, more fluid than anything, she runs with fierce grace. She truly was a beautiful mare, if a bit headstrong.

A lot like her rider.

Shiro had always wondered if that’s why they’d gotten on so well.

Biting at his lip, he tries to stop the stretch of his smile as he watches them easily jump the first couple of fences with plenty of space between them and the top. Not that that particularly shocks him.

Keith may have had a late start to riding, coming to Shiro off a recommendation from a mutual friend who had seen him riding at his family’s ranch, but he was a natural.

Taking to show jumping as there was nothing else that could have possibly made sense, Shiro had envied him at first. Even before the accident that had left him without his right arm and the ability to continue riding, he’d worked his entire life to get where Keith had started.

Now, though, his jealousy had turned into and entirely different emotion that was equal parts pride and love. It was almost painful, the way it swelled in his chest sometimes.

It was painful now, as he watched Keith dip low against Red as they ran at the tallest of the hurdles. There’s a sharp sound that is far too loud in his ears as Red pushes off for the jump, a split second realization hitting him with the knowledge that it was the sound of his own breath stalling in his throat.

Time seems to stop at the peak of their jump, suspending them as he sees the smile that arcs across Keith’s face as they fly.

He was made up of his own beautiful ferocity, but Shiro knows he never quite looks as beautiful as he does when he and Red are cutting through the air.

The crash of time is abrupt as they land, Keith pulling Red to the side so quickly he’s almost certain they’ll fall with the sudden change of direction. It’s an impossible move, one that will save him seconds if they make it, but it’s a gamble.

One that seems to pay off as they make their way toward the last fences.

Pain sears in his palm as the ring presses its shape into his palm, timed with his quick glance up to the timer on the board.

Shiro can’t even remember grabbing it as he shifts his attention back to the course in time to watch Keith make the final jump.

He makes it look so easy, Shiro thinks, as the sound of pleasant claps fill the stadium. Heart kicking into double time, he watches as Keith pets the side of Red’s neck lovingly, leaning in once more with soothing words at her ear.

Tossing her mane, Keith pushes back with a laugh to avoid her hair as she turns her head. Shiro swears she looks at him as he hears the announcer’s voice cut through the sound of the clapping, carrying Keith’s score and time.

Keith had needed to shave three seconds off of his best time to win.

Instead, he made it five.

The claps seem to grow louder around him as Keith turns his attention to him, grin stretching bright and happy as he finds Shiro at the coaches area. His own smile goes brilliant and wide as he turns on his heel, ring still clutched in his grasp as he makes his way toward the stables to meet Keith.

He had known it felt like the perfect day, because it seemed that fate really was on his side.

***


	25. Matchmakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coeurbrise02 asked: Sheith prompt: Acxa, Ezor and Zethrid are constantly setting up situations where Keith is constantly 'falling' for Shiro, trying to help their helpless group leader. They think it's the perfect time for him to get his mate (Galran term), especially since Shiro started helping the Blades after his divorce.
>
>> “Maybe we should just shut them in a room until they figure it out,” Zethrid offers suddenly, snapping the silence like a Fate’s string.
>> 
>> “They’d probably starve before they did,” Ezor says offhandedly after a breath.
>> 
>> “They’d probably fight over who would nobly sacrifice themselves so the other could eat them to survive,” Acxa adds with a thick layering of what Veronica taught her was called sarcasm. It earns her a loud snort from Ezor.
>> 
>> “By the gods, they would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should know that I screamed at like, everyone, when I got this prompt. I am very much a fan of the idea of Keith’s badass lesbian squad tryna help a poor boy out and kinda wish this wasn’t just a drabble ~~well as much of a drabble as i could make it since it still is over my max lol~~ so I could explore just a wee bit more of their dynamic. Hopefully it still hits the key points though!
> 
>  **Tags:** Outsider POV, Fluff, Figuring Shit Out, Post S8ish ~~in that it has the galra generals and shiros divorced~~

“I can’t decide who is more tragic,” Ezor muses, flipping her head over the back of the couch’s arm to stare back at Acxa as Zethrid massaged at her calves in her lep.

“Flippy hair, or the admiral.”

Shaking her head as Zethrid snorts, Acxa took a sip of the strange, brown bean water that Veronica had taught her to make. It’s still too hot and she blanches at its burning bitterness before she replies.

“I fear at this point it’s all they know,” she says as she walks around the counter of the break room and toward the armchair beside the other Galra. Dropping into it, she sighed, relishing the way the cushion cradled her.

There hadn’t necessarily been anything wrong with the Galra ship they’d been using at the start of their humanitarian work, but there really wasn’t anything quite like the comforts the Atlas provided.

“There’s got to be something we can do to get them together,” Ezor continues, not bothering to look at her now as she spoke out into the open room. “They’ve been like this since we were with Lotor.”

A heaviness rolls across the room in the form of their pause as Acxa chances another sip of coffee. Deca-phoebs had past, and their former leader’s name still hung like a weight around their throats. It hadn’t been until much later that they’d realized he was a misguided soul with all the right ideals, and all the wrong way of executing them.

Sometimes, Acxa wondered if all that they were still doing was some small way of realizing the dream that was once Lotor’s goal.

“Maybe we should just shut them in a room until they figure it out,” Zethrid offers suddenly, snapping the silence like a Fate’s string.

“They’d probably starve before they did,” Ezor says offhandedly after a breath.

“They’d probably fight over who would nobly sacrifice themselves so the other could eat them to survive,” Acxa adds with a thick layering of what Veronica taught her was called sarcasm. It earns her a loud snort from Ezor.

“By the gods, they would.”

Her words faded once more to silence filled with nothing more than the quiet hum of the air system. It’s a comfortable kind of silence, only found after years of familiarity. Acxa appreciates it as she looks over the picture of domesticity her friends cut as Zethrid continues to knead at Ezor’s legs.

At one point, she hadn’t thought they’d get to this point. Lost to their own individual anger and loyalties, they’d had to fight hard, but they made it all the same.

Brought together by Lotor, their own need to survive, and then their own redemption, it was funny to think that now what they’d set their mind to was getting Keith and Shiro figure it out. Shiro’s marriage had only lasted about three deca-phoebs, a far cry from the lifetime that humans claimed. He’d joined their forces at the helm of the Atlas claiming it could only help the humanitarian effort to have Earth’s force at their side.

But they’d seen the way his gaze would turn soft whenever speaking with Keith in the same way it always had, so they knew better.

Keith’s own unwavering attachment to Shiro had always been something of an inevitability. Even when he wasn’t there, it made itself known in the spaces between the lovers he’d taken. While Keith had always loved fiercely, he still hadn’t loved quite like he did with Shiro.

Yet there had been something missing when they’d finally come back together, and watching the way they continued to dance around each other like crashing stars was painful.

“We should still try it,” Ezor pipes up. Tightening her grip on her still steaming cup, Acxa took another careful sip before nodding.

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

***

“And you’re sure you told him to come to the training deck, right?” Ezor asks, peeking over the window’s ledge of the observation room to look down at the admiral who seems to be growing more antsy by the minute. Acxa isn’t quite sure what line they must have used to get him there, but she knows for a fact that Keith had agreed to meet her at the training deck.

“Yes,” she confirms again as she pushes herself into the space between Ezor and Zethrid in time to watch Shiro look down at his watch.

Again.

“Maybe he got the day wrong,” Zethrid growls as the man below lets out what looks like the world’s wariest sigh.

“It’s hard to get today mixed up with any other day,” Acxa growls back, watching as Shiro starts to stretch his human arm, pressing the elbow back behind his head with the metallic one.

“Maybe he’s onto us,” Ezor says under her breath, almost as if it’s an after thought and that, seems entirely plausible, Acxa thinks. This wasn’t the first time they’d tried to get them alone to finally talk.

Or the second.

Or the tenth.

How many times was this now?

“He’s here!” Ezor squeaks excitedly, bouncing on her haunches as Acxa surfaces from her thoughts to see the dark, lithe shape that is Keith. Dressed in his usual form fitting black with his braid falling casually over his shoulder, he cuts a commanding figure, and Acxa can see the way Shiro stalls when he sees him from here.

“Looks like we’re finally a go, girls,” Zethrid say proudly, reaching a hand over the top of her head to meet Ezor’s with a loud clap.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Acxa says lowly as she watches the way Keith’s shoulders go rigid and how he crosses his arms across his chest. With his back to them, there’s no way to tell who speaks first, but she sees the way Shiro’s cheeks pink and how his mouth moves around what she can only assume is a greeting.

Holding her breath, she leans closer to the ledge to watch the standoff.

Then, quick as lightning, Shiro is on his back.

“Ouch,” Zethrid blows between her teeth, cutting her gaze away to look over at her companions. “Maybe we were wrong?”

Below, Keith moves, throwing legs on either side of Shiro’s hips and gripping the front of his sleeveless top to pull him close. There seems to be another pause as he stares down at him before Shiro shifts, knocking him to the side and reversing their positions easily.

Keith, to his credit, throws a fist up into his jaw.

“Should we stop them?” Ezor questions as Shiro spits a line of red on the mats beside them. Using his Altean arm, he gathers Keith’s wrists in his grip and wrenches his arms over his head as he leans in close.

Another pause as he speaks, and then Keith twists his hips and kicks his leg at an impossible angle to flip them in a way that leaves his knee pressed to Shiro’s sternum and his hands still cuffed by that robotic arm beside his head.

Acxa can’t help but mimic the surprised sound that forces the admiral’s mouth into a comedic ‘o’ as loosens his grip on Keith’s wrists and instead lets his arms fall to the side in what looks a lot like surrender.

“No, not yet,” she replies as Shiro says something, tilting his chin up and keeping his eyes fixed on the man above him. Keith’s breaths heave his shoulders as he keeps his head turned down, hair falling out of his braid and shielding his face.

Achingly slow, she watched as he sat back, dragging his hands from the floor to Shiro’s chest and dropping his knee down beside him.

The admiral’s mouth moves again, and for all she knows, it must be a spell as she watches Keith draw closer, leaning into him until his hair curtains them both.

With whiplike speed, Acxa grabs at Ezor and Zethrid’s shoulders, pulling them down beneath the ledge as Shiro’s arms came up to wrap around Keith’s waist.

Zethrid’s look is accusatory as Ezor makes a small sound of protest at the back of her throat. By way of answer, Acxa just nods her head back to the door.

“It was just getting to the good part,” Ezor mumbles as they push away, turning from the private scene to head to the door.

“Humans are so weird,” Zethrid muses thoughtfully as it swooshes open before them.

 _They are_ , Acxa thinks, a small smiler flicking the edges of her mouth up as her mind roves to her own human. She also thinks, for just a moment, that that’s what made humanity so beautiful.

“Come on, girls,” she hums, throwing her arms across both their shoulders and pulling them close as they exited into the empty hall. “Our work here is done.”

****


	26. Jealousy + Jeiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One anon asked for jealous!Shiro and one-sided Jeith, while another asked for jealousy for Jeiro or just any Jeiro
>
>> Shiro isn’t jealous. He has no reason to be. Keith is his, wholly and completely, just as he’s Keith’s.
>> 
>> He swears he isn’t jealous, but there’s something frothing in the depths of his chest as he watches James’ head fall back with a boisterous laugh at something Keith had said, and, well, it feels a lot like it could be jealousy.
>> 
>> The duo had grown closer in the past few months, their history forgotten to the necessities of war, and in that time, they’d learned they actually got along quite well. James’ sense of honor paired well with Keith’s own sensibilities and loyalties, almost making them foils of the same principle.
>> 
>> And, if he was being an honest man, Shiro is happy for Keith.
>> 
>> He truly is.
>> 
>> The problem here isn’t the newfound friendship between the two, but the light touch James brushes across Keith’s bicep, and the imperceptible way that he leans into it.
>> 
>> The problem, is the quick glance, bright and sharp, that finds Shiro before Keith hides it behind a sip of water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all can see why I had to pair your prompts together, my sweet Jeith/Jeiro anons. I couldn’t manage to make this happen during NYE, but I think I got everything else! Consider this a sequel to [You Can Look](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837636), because apparently I can only write Jeith/Jeiro type things if they’re in that ‘verse XD

Shiro isn’t jealous. He has no reason to be. Keith is his, wholly and completely, just as he’s Keith’s.

He swears he isn’t jealous, but there’s something frothing in the depths of his chest as he watches James’ head fall back with a boisterous laugh at something Keith had said, and, well, it feels a lot like it could be jealousy.

The duo had grown closer in the past few months, their history forgotten to the necessities of war, and in that time, they’d learned they actually got along quite well. James’ sense of honor paired well with Keith’s own sensibilities and loyalties, almost making them foils of the same principle.

And, if he was being an honest man, Shiro is happy for Keith.

He truly is.

The problem here isn’t the newfound friendship between the two, but the light touch James brushes across Keith’s bicep, and the imperceptible way that he leans into it.

The problem, is the quick glance, bright and sharp, that finds Shiro before Keith hides it behind a sip of water.

Sweat still slicks their skin, fresh from the sparring they’d just finished and Shiro’s face runs hot at the flush that paints across Keith’s cheeks, and the way way his pout forms around words in a near obscene recollection of their previous night.

He feels his growl, more than hears it, as it rumbles through his chest.

“You good, buddy?” Hunk’s voice is bright and concerned, making Shiro jump as he turns away from another one of James’ smiles that’s expertly aimed at Keith.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Shiro asks, trying not to think too hard about the way his words come out far too clipped to pass as nonchalant.

If Hunk notices, he doesn’t say as he just shrugs, eyes pulling down to Shiro’s fist.

“Just wondering what your drink could have done to you to deserve that,” he offers, moving his gaze back up to his face from the travel mug. Another pealing sound of laughter cuts through the air of the otherwise quiet gym. It pulls Hunk’s chocolate stare past Shiro’s shoulder, and his face goes soft with knowing.

“Ah,” he says sagely as Shiro loosens his grip, silently admonishing the Altean arm for the grooves its worked into the metal.

“I’m fine,” Shiro repeats, sounding strangled as he looks up at Hunk in time to see the flash of his eyes rolling. Smile cracking with a low chuckle, he reaches out and drops a palm to Shiro’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to being fine, then,” Hunk says, flicking his look past him again before slightly shaking his head. His fingers press into the meat of his shoulder in what he imagines is supposed to be reassurance before Hunk turns over his own to leave.

“I’m fine,” Shiro growls again, seconds too late as he hears another laugh.

This time, it’s Keith’s.

His fingers twitch back into the dented mug as he turns his attention back to the duo.

He isn’t jealous. Shiro swears he isn’t.

But there is something roiling under his skin, and it pushes him towards the pair before he can further contemplate just how not jealous he is.

Neither seem to notice his quiet approach, a fact that only makes the thing in his chest roar louder as he drops his arm around Keith’s shoulders. Pressing into the touch, Keith looks up at him, small smile already sating the tempestuous emotion.

“Hey Shiro,” his voice brushes over his name. It’s soft, and quiet, and Shiro sees the flash of something in James’ eyes that mirrors the frothing pit at his core.

“What’s up?” Keith follows up, words colored with what sounds all too bright with concern as he flicks his gaze to his sparring partner for the slightest moment. The thing in his chest roars, beating itself against the cage of his ribs as he leans into Keith and runs his nose against his temple.

“I was just thinking about how good you look right now,” he soothes at his ear, voice dangerous as his breath stirs the waves of his hair. The smile he tucks against Keith’s skin is pointed.

“And how you’d look even better on your knees.”

A shudder rolls through Keith, and it tickles beneath Shiro’s arm as he pulls back to admire the deepening flush of his skin.

“I need to speak with you in my office,” Shiro says, directing his words to Keith as he looks to James. The MFE’s scowl is deep and stormy in a way that makes the thing in his chest purr.

“Head there now,” he continues, brow twitching up as he holds James’ stare.

“Admiral’s orders.”

A soft sound escapes Keith as he nods at the words.

“Yes, sir,” Keith hums, words warm and pleased as he pulls away.

“See you later, Griffin,” he says with a quick, two fingered salute to James before turning on his heel. Biting down on his smile, Shiro tries not to follow the slight sway in Keith’s step as he reaches the door.

The quiet buzzes between them, charged with electricity as they hear the door open and shut, leaving them well and truly alone.

Shiro basks in it for a moment, dragging his look over James before nodding curtly at him in dismissal.

Okay, maybe he’d been a little jealous, he thinks as he follows behind, tracing Keith’s path as triumph tickles in his veins.

It’s still quiet behind him, eerily so, as he feels the burn of a stare at his back. Pausing at the doorway, Shiro turns a look over his shoulder. Standing with his chin tilted high, James is still standing there, shoulders tight in almost defiance.

Almost.

“You too, cadet,” Shiro says, loading his voice with authority. Light sparks in James’ eyes as he continues around his growing smile, “admiral’s orders.”

Turning away once more, Shiro pushes his way through the door and into the hall, not bothering to confirm if James is following.

He knows he will.

After all, this was all just a part of the game that they play, and James deserved a treat for being such a good boy.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~and then they went back to shiro's office and [redacted] with keith [redacted] while james [redacted]~~


	27. Hoverbike Racing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: ur awesome for doing these. could we get some hoverbike racing sheith?
>
>> For the first time in a long time, Keith felt free.
>> 
>> He felt it in the way the heated desert air twisted through his hair, whipping it around his face.
>> 
>> He felt it in the velvet thrum of the hoverbike beneath him as it carries him across the dry, cracked earth.
>> 
>> He felt it, in the joyous sound of the that’s beside him.
>> 
>> There’s no more war, no more crushing weight of a universe trying to take from them, no more fight for time. They had all of it, stretched out ahead of them like the desert he and Shiro both love so much.
>> 
>> Smile pulling wide, Keith chances a look over toward him. With his head tossed back, Shiro is the picture of reckless abandon. A man freed of his shackles, he looks younger, and his smile makes Keith’s chest ache with how it crinkles the edges of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You: Very innocently asks for hoverbike racing  
> Me: My ideal s8 ending? Well if you insist.
> 
> Haha, for real though, this is a little more soppy and sweet and a little less hoverbike racing, but I hope you like it all the same!
> 
>  **Tags:** ALL THE FLUFF

For the first time in a long time, Keith felt free.

He felt it in the way the heated desert air twisted through his hair, whipping it around his face.

He felt it in the velvet thrum of the hoverbike beneath him as it carries him across the dry, cracked earth.

He felt it, in the joyous sound of the that’s beside him.

There’s no more war, no more crushing weight of a universe trying to take from them, no more fight for time. They had all of it, stretched out ahead of them like the desert he and Shiro both love so much.

Smile pulling wide, Keith chances a look over toward him. With his head tossed back, Shiro is the picture of reckless abandon. A man freed of his shackles, he looks younger, and his smile makes Keith’s chest ache with how it crinkles the edges of his eyes.

Keith wants to think it’s a smile like one from his past before everything, only that still wasn’t right.

Even then Shiro had carried the burden of a ticking time bomb in his bloodstream.

Now, he was well, and truly free.

“Catch me if you can, old timer!” He shouts, if only to see the way Shiro’s lips stretch wider, impossibly so until it captures the same brightness as the lowering sun.

Tightening his grip, Keith turns his attention back ahead of him as he throws more thrust into it. The loud, ripping growl of his engine almost swallows the whoop of excitement behind him as its echoed by Shiro’s engine bike.

Nipping at his heels, he never quite catches up as they kick up burnt red clouds that bleed across the robins egg sky. It’s hours, maybe, that they ride like this, exchanging laughs and throw away comments that are swallowed whole by the sounds of their bikes.

It isn’t until the soft crest of a realization rolls over Keith that he slows, loosening his grip as he takes in the scenery around them.

Without thinking, he’s led them to an all too familiar cliff.

The one that Keith has far too many memories of, each and every one playing like a reeling tape against his vision as his bike continues to slow.

He sees the time Shiro had taught him to allow himself to hope for better. To believe he could be better. For the first time, and at that time, the only time.

He sees the time he’d let Shiro go, unaware that it would be the catalyst to the rest of his life.

He see the time he’d said his goodbyes to an Earth that he still hadn’t quite felt like was his home.

Caught in the scene of the setting sun, Keith saw several overlaid with the most important moments of his life.

“This is familiar,” Shiro laughs, coming up beside Keith as he pulls his goggles off and pushes himself off his hoverbike.

“Is it?” Keith teases, knocking his shoulder against Shiro’s. An electric hum sticks to his skin where it makes contact as he lingers against him just long enough to get Shiro to press back into his touch.

The stretch of desert below them is already dipping into watercolored shadows as the sun sinks lower, stretching a line of gold along the edge of the fading sky.

Sinking down to his haunches, Shiro settles himself at the edge of the cliff, dangling his legs over the side as he pats the spot beside him expectantly. It’s the only invitation Keith needs as he follows, setting himself close so that their arms brush.

Without any rush or galactic expectation, they watch the sun continue its slow path toward the horizon.

Heat runs a line over Keith’s shoulders as Shiro wraps an arm around them, pulling him in close so he can brush a soft kiss across the top of his hair.

“So what’s next?” Keith asks, skin warmed with Shiro’s touch and the way the sky has caught fire. It reminds him of a future sunset. One that has yet to come, and that he only knows about thanks to the quantum abyss.

For all its stolen time, it had given him that much. A gift of sorts.

One with a skyline a lot like this one, but with a gleam of gold and softly whispered I do’s.

“I don’t know,” Shiro breathes, his words tickling his crown. “Anything, I guess.”

Turning to look up at him, Keith marvels at the way the last rays of light outline Shiro’s profile, kissing his skin so that he glows.

“Anything?” Keith asks quietly, unable to bite down on his growing grin.

“As long as you’re there,” Shiro adds with a shrug, eyeing him slyly. A low, happy rumble cracks Keith’s chest as he closes the distance between them.

The kiss tastes sweet, and warm, and like the last vestiges of sunshine as it dips down beneath the horizon.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, NEW YEAR'S PROMPTS ARE COMPLETE! <3


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